The Rise of One
by checkerboard.paint
Summary: Things don't go as planned after the Echidna fight. Hell, they don't even try to follow the script after Taylor's identity was revealed. But everything truly falls apart when the Simurgh comes to Brockton Bay. Canon divergence/AU
1. Cumulus 1-1

**A/N:**

 **I will start this off by saying that I changed some massive and not-so massive things with the Wormverse. One of those things is going to be pretty obvious in this chapter. There is some light "body horror", if you can call it that, but we've all read Worm so I'm sure you can handle it. I don't want to spoil too much.**

 **A few things:**

 **1\. This idea has been ruminating in my mind for the past two weeks. I started writing it just for myself until I began to wonder if others would be interested in the idea, so I thought it would be best for me to post a small snippet of what I had already written. This is it. Let me know what you think, what works and doesn't work so I can fix it for your enjoyment and for the peace of my own mind. Reading these characters and _writing_ them is a whole lot harder than I thought it would be.**

 **2\. This isn't my first fanfic, but it is my first time writing for Worm. I finished that glorious monster of a book about a month ago in-between college and life. Took me two weeks. That being said, I don't remember every itty bitty detail. Sad, I know. But I just don't have the time to scour through everything, so if you find something that's incorrect, let me know and I'll fix it or shoot you a PM if I intended for the mistake to exist. This is an AU/Canon divergence, so some things will be different after all.**

* * *

I zipped up the back of my costume and double-checked that everything was in order. My armor was fully tightened, centipedes and wolf spiders were just settling in around my hair and neck to drape like a macabre necklace down my front. My added shawl and skirt shimmered in the draft of the room. It would be pretty if it weren't for the cockroaches that had suckered themselves to it.

The can of pepper spray still sat dutifully in my utility compartment. With a shake I could tell it was full, ready to draw. Not that I should need it. I thought about arranging my bugs into speeds instead of the variety I had already set in place, then thought better of it. I was just wasting time now.

 _Suck it up. You're best at that._

I steeled myself, straightened my spine against the scar tissue around my chest and back. Resisting the urge to run my hands over the knotted skin, I spun on my heel and fled the room.

The building we were meeting the Ambassadors, Teeth and the rest in was a disaster, which was exactly why we chose it. Tattletale said Accord was a total control freak, a megalomaniac who thrived in spaces where everything had its place. He was going to have a hard time finding that here.

The Forsberg Gallery was a thing of beauty once. Though I was never really fond of the Jenga layout, the place held enough memories that I was willing to overlook it. The last time I had been here was when we crashed the PRT party. Before, the glass had been in our favor. It was the same now. I drew a finger across one of the stair railings that ended in splinters at the top of the stairs. Unlike now, I hadn't gotten the chance to appreciate the interior back then. It had to have been something else in its hay day, before Leviathan or Shatterbird had gotten their hands on it.

But everything beautiful had an end. I would know.

"Hey, Boss-Lady." Tattletale greeted me with a grin. She waited on the second floor, leaning against the banister. If I didn't know better I would tell her to step away from the edge, but she knew more than anyone how much weight it could hold. Plus, I was pretty sure she'd be annoyed if it looked like I were doubting her intellect.

I also knew that beneath her easy smile was concern buried underneath, which stirred up an unfair amount of anger.

It wasn't their fault about what happened less than twelve hours ago when Dragon and "Defiant" had outed me to the rest of the world. It wasn't Lisa's fault or anyone else's but _theirs,_ but I was feeling a little emotional. Maybe a lot emotional.

Everyone was playing it safe tonight. Even Regent, whose shallow pool of emotions could make drama teachers cry, was sparing me his usual taunts.

"Oh, dork's here," Regent drawled.

Maybe not.

"Hey. Parian here yet?" I asked.

I walked over to Bitch who was leaning against the far wall, Bastard and Bentley among the other four dogs nestled by her legs. She was growing them slowly, so the amount of dogs pushing at my feet wasn't too overwhelming. Yet.

"Um, yes," Parian answered somewhere to the side.

I turned and it took me a moment to make her out from the shadows. Her hair and dress were black as we had planned, but it was easy to tell that she wasn't comfortable by it. In fact, by the way she tugged at the lacey skirt it was plain that she hated it.

"Good," I said, trying to inject a bit of warmth into my tone. I knew she wasn't keen on the plan, but after today we needed a strong image. Unshakable, like the warlords we were all made out to be.

She nodded but didn't say anything else, instead returning her attention to the giant spider and scorpion she was creating at the request from me. The silk was my own, left over from past costume mistakes. It was luck that I dyed them black despite them not being used to wear.

From what I had seen before, she didn't need to devote all of her attention to sewing up her creations. But it was calming her, a coping mechanism that she must have developed over the last few months, so I let it be.

"So, um, I don't want to be the one who points out the _dragon_ in the room, but-" Imp started, sounding completely unapologetic.

"Aisha, not now," Grue cut in sharply, fixing her a glare with his mask. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. "We need everyone in the right mindset for when they come."

"Grue's right," I added, not wanting to fail as a leader at the moment. I felt like I should say more, knew everyone was waiting for me to add _"We can talk about it later,"_ except that I didn't want to talk about it later. I didn't think I could.

One of my threads pulled two blocks away and I jumped at the chance to change the topic. "They're here."

Tattletale made her way to the window without another word, pulling out her pair of binoculars. "Yep, it's the Teeth. Are we all set?"

Parian nodded, leading the scorpion and spider up the third flight of stairs. Beside me Bitch grunted. The dogs were just about finished growing to the size of couches. Bastard preened at her side, and I could swear that he was getting a little bigger every day. I wondered how large he'll be as an adult.

"Cool. Places, everyone!" Tattletale called. She must've been holding onto that one for a while.

Grue stared at me for a while longer with what I supposed was a meaningful look, though I wasn't getting much from the depth of darkness that began to shroud him. I shrugged it off and waited for the rest to make their way up the stairs before following.

I would make it through this, one way or another.

* * *

Screw that.

I slammed the door to my room hard enough that the sound could probably be heard all throughout the house. I would feel bad if the kids or Charlotte were here, but they were out.

The sun was high today as it had been for the past few days, hardly a cloud out in sight except for the big, fluffy white ones. The type that were painted on the walls of nurseries and allergy medication and basically anything better than this.

Charlotte took them down the block to play a makeshift game of kickball. At least, that was her excuse. I suspected it was so that I could have some space to myself, for which I appreciated more than she could ever understand.

I dropped face-first onto my mattress, ignoring the slight dig of loose springs and the squeak of metal that followed. The morning newspaper headline ran through my mind.

TAYLOR HEBERT: GONE-GIRL, BUG-GIRL

I unfolded the newspaper from where I had wedged it between my tied jacket and pants. My school picture decorated the top of the article, the Alexandria T-shirt I had been so proud of stark against the dark background. My hair was little less than tendrils of black behind me, twisting in an unruly mess.

It was universal knowledge that school photos caught people at the worst time, whether it be in the awkward greasy-face stage or acne-galore. Whatever. It was still embarrassing.

I knew that this was going to happen the moment my mask was torn away.

The rest of the week had me more or less holed up in my hideout during the day, only venturing out at night. I forced myself to do several walks around my territory out of costume so that people could see me and know I wasn't taking this laying down, but as soon as I could get away with it I returned to home base.

I told myself that I could survey my territory easily without actually stepping outside, but that was just to hide the truth. I couldn't stand the looks that others gave me.

Not from my team, no. Brian had stopped by on several occasions when he could, though I suspected it was for him as much as it was for me. Rachel was off on her own and Alec and Aisha never visited anyways, so it was Lisa who stopped by every morning with the newspaper.

I hated and loved her for it at the same time.

It didn't take the press long for them to discover the bullying. Funny, since it took my school months to mention it, much less do anything about it. But the local news, and probably the national though I hadn't had much reason to seek it out, was digging up every bit of dirt they could find on me.

Quotes from teachers, classmates. Students that I didn't know but wanted to get in on the action were piecing together the long, broken story of every bit of teasing and harassment I had gone through. Every front page was the same thing, except with _more_ stories, _more_ photos.

What pissed me off was that they didn't cover half of it.

But this one, though.

It wasn't that long ago. It felt like years, but it was really only a bit after I triggered. When my dad threatened more than just a lawsuit, things got worse.

Much worse.

I twisted on my side and my fingers found my chest on their own accord. The thin shirt I wore was nothing compared to the knotted flesh underneath. My fingernail traced a path down the worn cotton, through the weaving bumps and down to my navel.

 _"Hebert was allegedly accosted by three of her peers…"_

The newspaper's words entered my mind. My other arm twisted awkwardly to my side and found the end of a thin scar. One among many.

 _"Authorities believe it was after an incident in January that caused Hebert to develop anthropokinesis. But it was shortly after February that school officials say they were made aware of the situation after a second incident."_

My hand twitched as it found the part where the thin lines overlapped in the middle of my back. _Whipped. Back stripped of flesh._

 _"'We had no idea when or how it happened,' Blackwell, principal of Winslow High said. 'Only that Ms. Hebert had been horribly mistreated by someone at some point in time.' School officials cited the delay in action for suspicions against Danny Hebert, father, for child abuse speculations…"_

He must be going through hell right now. Hopefully the dock crew was keeping him good company and backing up his character. Sure, my dad had a temper, but he would never hurt me.

 _"The Hebert family filed for a police investigation against her alleged attackers mid-February for the charges of kidnapping, aggravated assault and torture."_

I bit my lip.

 _"The investigation was later closed on the grounds that there were no proportionate leads. The Brockton Bay Police Department has declined comment. No further information on either incident has been acquired."_

I don't remember how it happened or when. It was closer to the end of February, unlike what the newspaper had printed, and my dad said that I had left for school. Apparently I even attended a few classes, though I remembered none of that.

All that I _do_ remember was when I woke up days later on the back porch, stiff and clouded, with a feeling that something vital had been torn from me. I hadn't been wrong.

I sat up slowly and turned to the fogged mirror that hung across from my bed. I hiked up my shirt slowly, inch by inch, until I finally tore it off in one violent motion.

 _Might as well get it over with,_ I thought.

My breasts were gone. Two vertical, jagged scars were in their place, stretched from several inches below my collar bone down to a little past my rib cage. It wasn't a mastectomy incision, clean and horizontal, but rather like a violent tear down my front, like the Leviathan had raked through my skin. The scars weren't even _even._

It was a stupid thought to be hung over the fact that my right scar was longer than the left, but it gave me some control over my feelings. I could be angry over something crooked, _lots_ of people had a little OCD in them. The thought made me feel more connected to the rest of the world.

Then I looked over my shoulder.

My back was more or less a leather hide. From where the whip, knife, baton or whatever had struck were long, thin scars that slung from my shoulders down to my hips. They were almost carefully laid out, each one similar in length and width, but it hardly mattered for the closer to the middle of my back they got, the less space in-between each mark. The result was a canvas with too many coats of paint, each brush stroke adding another layer to the mix.

Thinner nicks and divots marked my arms and stomach, a scratch needle-thin curving from under my jaw to just below my chin, but I remembered where I got those. The rest of me, _this,_ I had no idea.

And neither did my dad, nor the police or just about anyone. There weren't any other cases like mine, barring a few that dated back to a serial killer from the 1980's who liked to strip their victims of their flesh before incinerating them.

There were no eyewitnesses, no teachers or students to spill the beans on what had happened. Nothing. Only that I had shown up and then mysteriously vanished during lunch break.

That was when my dad threatened a full-investigation on the Winslow High, except before anything could happen the focus had been turned to him and the child abuse allegations began to spring up.

Once it was clear that he had nothing to do with it, the police were only just picking up the investigation once more a few weeks before Leviathan hit, and any evidence that could've been found was washed away.

That makes it sound like there were trails or leads in the first place.

Honestly, I don't believe it was Emma or Madison. They couldn't pull anything off like this and get away with it. They were good, but not _that_ good.

Sophia was another case. But although she had some serious psychological issues and had no problem with inflicting pain, I couldn't see this in her. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to keep from mocking me over it if she knew.

No, it had to be some other parahuman. For though the scars that marred my chest and back were only five months old at best, they looked as if I'd had them for years. They were a faded white, and the skin was pliable enough to allow me to do what I needed to. That wasn't to say they weren't ugly, but they should have been an angry red and puffed out, pulling the skin taut.

I couldn't really blame the police for doubting our accusations. It almost looked I had grown up with the scars, though there was evidence to prove otherwise.

It didn't make sense. None of it, and that almost made me as angry as the fact that my body had been deformed by someone or some _thing's_ hands.

I stared for a moment longer before a chill settled itself on my bare shoulders and I put the shirt back on. I'd like to blame the room, but the heater worked fine and it was the middle of summer.

My team knew on various levels. Lisa had suspected it in her own way, and when I finally showed her to see if she could figure anything out she could only confirm that it was a parahuman's work. Brian… had definitely _seen_ them and knew everything that I did, which wasn't much. Rachel I doubted would care about the scars, only if I'd gotten them back for it. Which I hadn't.

It wasn't like I hadn't tried. I couldn't begin to recount all of the hours I'd spent crying and researching and swearing, searching for an answer to what was one of the cruelest things to ever happen to me. But after a few months I started to see that in the grand scheme of things, between surviving an Endbringer attack and protecting all that I loved, what had happened to me was small in comparison.

That didn't mean I was going to just let it go. I was willing to let revenge sit on the back-burner while I took care of the more immediate problems.

I thought of the two crumpled notes in my pocket.

* * *

The next few days were some of the hardest I'd ever had, which was saying something.

I had said my goodbyes in my own way, each departure hammering the knife through my chest deeper and deeper. It was almost impossible to think that it hadn't been a year since I'd been a cape, much less _half_ a year, yet those short months with the Undersiders held more life in them than the rest of my years.

I was willing to give it all up for a chance it would save them and my dad.

It was in the middle of lacing up my shoes that my phone started to buzz. I frowned and pulled it out, answering it after reading the caller ID. It was Lisa, probably calling to see where I was.

"Green-" I was cut off before I could finish.

"Simurgh landing," Tattletale interrupted. "Half hour away, maybe an hour. Looks like she's coming here."

It took me a second to find my voice. "What?" I croaked out. It had barely been two months since _Leviathan._ Hell, didn't she just attack Canberra in February?

There were stories about the Simurgh. Her constant scream that drove you mad, twisted your brain so much that it took months and years for it to untwist and actually wreak havoc. It was dormant insanity.

"Yep," she replied. She still sounded like she still had the killer migraine. "Something with Dragon's tech got screwed up and they weren't able to evacuate the city beforehand. Word is they're going to meet her halfway and see if they can curb her off with whoever volunteers. You in?"

I got up from my bed and looked out the window. The air raids had just begun to sound and the streets were slowly flooding with people. Unlike with Leviathan, they didn't try to bring their suitcases or bags. No one was running. It was eerie, their silent and somber faces as they walked almost leisurely to the nearest flight platforms that hadn't been destroyed.

It was a funeral march, I realized. If the PRT was calling in any parahuman, screened or not, they weren't expecting us to survive this.

With the recent exposure of Cauldron and the Triumvirate, there was no telling who would even show up. We weren't prepared for another Endbringer at the moment, least of all the _Simurgh._ I knew my answer.

"Yes," I said.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 ***I know that it was apparently wide speculation among the PRT/heroes (or at least MM) that Taylor triggered from her mom's death. But for the sake of this story, I tweaked that with the media***

 **A note about Taylor's scars:**

 **They aren't just flesh wounds. There's a deeper meaning and reason for them that's pivotal to where this story is ultimately heading.**

 **This is an AU that has tweaked slight facts of the Worm universe that will be revealed later on, but in the beginning we'll only see the shallow, physical part of them.**

 **They have also added a depth to Taylor's character that I feel puts another perspective on her. In canon she was never that comfortable with her body, she lamented her flat chest or skinny frame; while it's natural for anyone to do that with their body no matter what shape they're in, I felt like it cast light on a part of Taylor's mind. She found parts of herself ugly, she often second-guessed her choices and even in the end wished she had done things differently. Her imperfect body reflected her view of herself as a person. I feel like with body horror, it goes past the physical and becomes a reflection of the mental. Everyone has a monster inside.**

 **Will Taylor succumb to hers or rise above it?**

 **As for the change (or lack of) in canon:**

 **Throughout this story's progression, I will reveal several of Taylor's memories regarding key plot points and how they have been altered due to her scar's influence. Also, how other scenes may have prevented canon from changing too much. You will see this in relation to Cherish's interrogation, Panacea's healing and Taylor's relationship with both Brian and her father among other events I have deemed important. Stay tuned for those.**

 _ **The preceding notes were added after numerous questions/complaints made by reviewers.**_

 **What do you guys think? I hope it's obvious that I'm going to go in a pretty different direction from canon here on out. Allies will be made, friends will be lost and our dear Taylor is going to go on a hell of a ride from here.**

 **Are you interested?**


	2. Cumulus 1-2

**A/N:**

 **The response I've gotten from this has been crazy! Thank you all so much for favoriting/following. The pressure is officially on.**

 **A forewarning: I'm writing several other stories on top of this. One fanfic on my other account, two original stories and the daily essays/articles for college. Add all of that together as well as the fact that I update slowly and you guys might be in the waiting game. **

**I learned my lesson the hard way when I started my other story right off the bat on fanfiction and wrote full 7,000+ word chapters between updates, which takes a month and a half or so going by my schedule. I tried to avoid that with this one by writing about two chapters before posting the first, but in case I drop off the planet for a month, don't freak out. I'll try to aim for once every two weeks, but that's a _very_ generous estimate.**

 **Sad things aside, I loved your reviews** **Inverness, Xyfa, Ctornello and Crowheart** **! I'm so glad that you're are enjoying it so far.**

 **Xyfa: Haha, I'll take that as a compliment. The Simurgh is new territory for me, but I always wondered how Taylor would fair in a fight with her since she's gone against everyone else. She truly is the butterfly effect personified.**

 **Crowheart: Yeah, too true. I guess it's also because I thought she was a Junior halfway through the story. Whoops!**

 **And last but not least: The true master is Wildbow, whom we all owe thanks for the wonderful and brilliant Worm.**

* * *

I put the phone on speaker as I threw on my suit and gathered my bugs. The sound of rustling papers filled the background.

"Thought as much. I can't go out on the field," Tattletale said, "but Dragon is hooking me up to the coms. I'll try to keep you updated with whatever I can find on the Simurgh…" She trailed off and groaned. "If there was any worse time for this-"

"It's fine," I said, though we both knew it wasn't. "You do your best, I'll do mine. Where are they picking up volunteers?"

"Ninth street beside the Derry's Warehouse block. I told Grue to evacuate with Imp."

That was going to be my next priority. Everyone, including the folks who lived under rocks knew the Simurgh played on your mind. If your mind was already half-broken, there wasn't going to be much of a challenge to destroy it all. Brian couldn't afford to go near the fight.

In fact, "Have him take Regent, too." I didn't want to know how much damage the Simurgh could do with someone with his mindset.

More rustling. "On it," she replied.

I finished the last strap of my armor and grabbed a wireless earpiece that Lisa had dropped off recently, and exited through the front door instead of bothering with the tunnel. I doubted anyone was going to pay attention to just another person leaving their house, costume or not.

"Though with that thinking," Tattletale said through the earpiece. "Don't you think we should all evacuate? We're not exactly the sanest bunch," she joked.

It was true, but there was nothing I could do about Bitch until I got there. She wouldn't leave her dogs behind, and I wouldn't make her. If our situations had been switched, there was no way someone could make me leave.

"Maybe," I replied instead. "You sure you want to stay?"

"As sure as you are," she said.

And that was that.

By all circumstances, it wasn't too hard to get to ninth street. It was a place that was out of everyone's way, where no one had a good reason for being there even when things were running in smooth order.

Derry's Warehouse block was exactly that: several buildings lobbed together to store local business wares. The present day had the block more or less demolished, with only one building left standing next to the pulverized remains of the rest. Any merchandise that might have been within was long gone by now, and the only thing left were bugs and rats. I took the bugs.

Other heroes were showing up. Without any teleporters on hand they were arriving in a mismatch of aircrafts, the capes that could fly carrying over platforms of others. Miss Militia stood out front of the main warehouse with Chevalier, a faded red sign labelled _Derry's Berries_ hanging crookedly behind them. She met my eyes.

Narwhal from The Guild had also arrived, standing at her brilliant seven feet. The light glinted off the thousands of tiny force fields that covered her body, making it almost painful to look her way.

The Brockton Bay Wards along with who I presumed to be their new leader stood nearby several out-of-city teams, but unlike last time there was no forced camaraderie or joking between the other Wards. They kept silent, watching. Flechette wasn't with them. She presumably stayed behind with Parian.

Not far from his old team stood Weld with Gully, along with the red-skinned boy from the Echidna fight.

The Irregulars.

Or the beginning of them, anyways. I couldn't see Weld stopping there. He seemed to be goal-oriented, ambitious in a healthy way that Armsmaster lacked, and it suggested that he would try to recruit as many Case 53's as he could.

I watched as Weld approached the Brockton Bay Wards and strike up a conversation with them. It might have just been me applying a negative light everywhere I looked, but all of them looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Dragon and Defiant had taken up over half the block with their machines and were in the middle of what looked to be an intense, silent conversation. Their helmets covered their faces and they were practically at the other end of the road, but it was easy to see the tension in how they held themselves.

Defiant stood with his arms folded and clutched his spear in one hand, the length of it easily twice his height. His chin jutted forward and from this distance I could tell that whatever Dragon had said hadn't sat well with him.

Alexandria, Eidolon and Legend completed the entire scene, floating above us all; unreachable, _untouchable._

I was distracted when Rachel pulled up beside me on Bastard, three other dogs flanking her sides.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"They're not coming," I answered. "Tattletale's still worn out, but she'll be on coms."

Rachel grunted. She whistled sharply and pointed at me, and one of the dogs pattered over.

I shook my head. "Actually, I need you to help evacuate the city. Look for hospitals or people who look injured." I doubted riding one of the dogs would be much fun for a patient, but I figured they would need all the help they could get.

Rachel eyed me a moment longer before coming to a decision. "Okay," she said, and without warning or farewell she whistled sharply and bounded off, startling the heroes around us. Now I was alone. I didn't speak lest I bother Tattletale with needless conversation while she was trying to find something that might save our lives.

I didn't have to look to know that I was the only villain that had shown up, and with the amount of eyes on me I knew that others had come to the same conclusion.

I felt awkward, distinctly uncomfortable for the first time in a long while. It was funny, that I could be in as many life or death circumstances as I've been and feel out of my element in something like this.

I couldn't help but compare it to the last time I'd faced off against an Endbringer. No team, no real fighting power.

 _Useless._

The word dropped to the bottom of my stomach but I ignored it. This was no time to doubt myself. I was stronger now, and I knew where those strengths lay.

But I was beginning to second guess my being here.

"Thank you all for coming," Miss Militia spoke. Her voice carried over the whole block. "You all know what's going on, so I'm going to cut to the chase. The Simurgh has descended less than fifty miles away. We have reason to believe that this is her destination."

She didn't pause as some of the Wards began to hand out the armbands and another piece of tech. "We are to engage her long enough for the city to evacuate before we pull out. Only half of you are actually qualified to participate normally, but because of extenuating circumstance we're calling all hands on deck.

"This means that if we say to pull out, pull out. If we run, you run. Follow our orders to the T. The Simurgh plays no games and too many capes forget that."

Clockblocker approached me next. He handed me the armband and the other tech without a word.

"You will be receiving the standard armbands for the fight. The left button allows you to send messages to other members. These messages will be…"

I tuned her out, having received the same instructions twice in the last two months. Glancing around, I saw that our defense was increasing, but it was slow work. By the rate that capes were arriving and the amount of time we had to travel to the battleground, the situation was looking worse.

The capes around me ranged from nervous to budding panic. Miss Militia seemed to notice this as well because she cut the instructions early, moving on to the next gadget.

She held out her hand with the small capsule balanced in her palms. She took each end of the capsule with her fingertips and pulled it apart, revealing a gooey inside.

"These are prototype counter-measurements to the Simurgh's scream. They haven't been tested and each one is not guaranteed to work, but it's better than nothing."

That was why they weren't as uptight as I thought the Protectorate would be. They had some defense against the insanity, little though it was. I tried my own capsule and it came apart with a slight tug. The inside spilled out like molasses, smooth and slow and a dark purple. Weird.

"Apply it to the inside of both of your ears," Defiant said, stepping over to where Miss Militia and Chevalier stood. Dragon joined him shortly after. "If all else fails, the capsule will act as another layer of armor for your head."

"Did you get that?" I asked. Those around me gave me strange looks but I couldn't find it in myself to mind.

Tattletale hummed in response. "Yeah, take me out. I'll update over the bands as I find anything that might be useful." She hung up, no goodbyes.

Miss Militia began to apply the purple goo for the benefit of the crowd, to which half the capes around me winced at. I looked at my own slowly-forming puddle of purple. I wasn't about to complain, but the stuff was definitely not my first choice on the list of what I'd like to shove in my ears.

Still, I swiped it across my ears, unsure how deep to actually put it. It turned out I didn't have to worry. The goo began to spread immediately on contact, pouring over my ear lobe to the base of my neck, filling the inside of my ear canals with a gradually heating mass. Just as I was about to _really_ start worrying, the goo hardened in place and immediately cooled.

I did my other ear and the goo repeated its technique, reaching around the back of my head to create a shell of a helmet.

Others around me weren't faring as well. One cape's capsule spewed a fountain of goo immediately upon opening, spraying his friends with a spatter of purple. Another's was already hardened on the inside. Still, mostly everyone's head was coated in a shell-like helmet, dull in shine and a little crusty around the hair.

I wondered briefly how mine looked at the moment.

"Our thanks to Defiant and Dragon for designing both of these defenses," Chevalier said, stepping up to continue the speech. He, Clockblocker and a few other capes reappeared after applying the capsule underneath their helmets.

"We'll split up into teams for travel," he said. "If you came with a team, stay with that team. Otherwise, join another's. With enough skill and forethought, we'll stand a chance."

It wasn't as good as Legend's or nearly as long, but it did the trick. The capes began to move out, some returning back to their own crafts and others boarding the ones that Dragon had brought. Stragglers joined together after trading a few words, and before I knew it a wide space was beginning to form around me.

Awkward.

I hurriedly advanced through the crowd, scanning for anyone who looked like they could hold another member in their team. It looked like everyone had already found their niche.

Man, the speedsters showed up in force today. The only other time I'd seen a place clear out this fast was when someone was threating evisceration to the immediate public. Which, I confess, happened a little too often in this city.

Only the Brockton Bay Wards, Irregulars and Miss Militia were left, purple helmets coating their heads about as unattractively as I imagined mine was. Dragon and Defiant had taken off almost immediately after the speech.

I approached.

"Skitter. You're not here to cause trouble, are you?" Miss Militia asked, the weapon at her side switching several times before settling on a handgun. I shook my head no.

"Then you're with us," she said before anyone could intervene. She waited a pause as if expecting someone to complain, but no one did.

It was hard to get a read on their expressions. For one thing, Clockblocker's face was completely hidden from view. I had a feeling Vista was glaring daggers at me behind her visor and the purple gunk that caked her head, but I couldn't be too sure. I wouldn't blame her for the hard feelings. I'd sort of taken on the Wards and won every time.

Miss Militia lead us to one of the aircrafts with a scaled-motif on the sides. Dragon-made. The interior was rather lackluster, containing only a row of seats on both sides of the main room and a pair of seats at the front for a pilot and co-pilot. There were compartments low to the floor and about a foot above the headrests, both presumably filled with first-aid, weapons or some other tools.

The Brockton Bay Wards sat on one side of the ship, the Irregulars and I taking the other side. Gully was too large to strap herself in, so she took the floor without complaint. I suspected that she was used to it.

Miss Militia took the pilot seat without question and started the engine, jerking the ship into motion. I felt the gears shift beneath my feet as the inner workings clicked to life and caused the ship to lift in the air.

It wasn't like flying with Laserdream or Atlas. With them there was a sense of motion, no matter how smooth the former had been or bumpy the latter was. This type of flight carried no weight to it, and I would have thought we were still grounded if I weren't able to see out of the front windshield.

"Orders are to keep at least quarter-mile distance between groups," Miss Militia said after we had settled in. "We'll remain spread out to minimize contact with the Simurgh but keep her engaged."

Miss Militia kept her focus straight ahead, but with the gnats I had planted throughout the ship I could tell she was tense, her fingertips twitching minutely on the controls. Agitation, maybe nerves. It wasn't every day that you went against the Simurgh.

A thought struck me. Had she? I couldn't recall ever hearing her partake in the fight, but Simurgh battles were a touchy subject. I knew that Dragon and the Triumvate were returning brawlers and perhaps some others that had shown up today, but that was all.

It was an unpleasant thought. I turned my focus to my bugs, feeling for the ones outside. We weren't that high up, definitely closer to skyscraper-height but nowhere near what a plane would fly at. I was thankful for that, it made the idea of plummeting to my death a little easier to swallow.

 _"C-8 The Simurgh may have a teleportation device in her weaponry. Confirmation waiting."_ The same message was repeated throughout the ship. Tattletale must have found something and relayed it to Dragon.

 _"C-8 Information confirmed,"_ came a moment later.

"So, teleportation device?" Clockblocker broke the silence. Miss Militia tensed further in her seat. I supposed the commands were to keep conversation to a minimum.

"This wouldn't be the first time. The Travelers were brought here by the Simurgh," Weld said from beside me.

"Yeah, we know," Vista said.

She stared pointedly in Weld's direction, her mouth pressed in a hard line. That was surprising. I knew next to nothing about her, but by her team's body language it was obvious that this was new.

Weld's eyebrow lifted a fraction before he collected himself. "Sorry, just refreshing everyone."

The silence that followed was heavy, broken by the sound of something akin to an explosion below us.

I curled into myself instinctively and my armor buzzed, alive with thousands of insects ready to fly. Shouts and grunts erupted around as everyone braced for impact.

"A transformer blew, nothing else," Miss Militia said, stopping Clockblocker who was halfway out of his chair to freeze Crucible.

He coughed and re-buckled himself, a frozen Vista and Kid Win on either side of him. They came back not a half a minute later, the latter only having a moment of confusion before settling back in, obviously used to the disorientation.

The red boy who came along with Weld and Gully gave me a strange look and I realized that my armor was still buzzing. I focused on calming my nerves, willing hundreds of tiny wings to settle down. Easier said than done.

The rest of the ride was spent idly surveying the area around us with my bugs. There was moisture in the air, but not enough to warrant worry. More like the type of humid, lazy days that came as a staple of summer. It was going to be a pain to fight in, but I'd take it any day over rain.

We landed without fanfare and made our way down the ramp, the hot air blasting me in the face on the first step.

The Simurgh had landed in a beach town.

It had an old Hollywood feel to it, the squatted buildings and umbrella tables cast in an orange filter. I'd like to say it reminded me of the beach from Baywatch, but it was closer to Jaws.

I added the bugs in my suit to the ones I had been collecting on the way and reached out. The area was relatively flat save for a few shrubs and snack shacks. Further away from the beach the buildings began to grow in height, but the skyscrapers hung back at least a mile. Probably to preserve the view.

Miss Militia had brought the ship in a midway point between the two. Beach at our back, city to our front. Several blocks from us landed Defiant, Dragon going on ahead towards where the other teams were landing.

He nodded at us but kept his distance, and Miss Militia didn't look like she was about to make her way over anytime soon. She spoke in grim undertones to her armband and I barely heard the response. "…ed here."

The Wards and Irregulars had already gathered in their individual circles, though I got the impression that Weld had intended for it to be all-inclusive. The result left me in the middle of a circle and a half, forming the wall that kept the two teams separate.

"Skitter," Weld approached. He extended a hand and I shook it, the unyielding metal below my fingers only vaguely unnerving me. I knew as well as anyone that he was metal, but it was easy to forget in gestures so inconsequential.

"It's nice to have an extra set of eyes. While Miss Militia is getting updated, mind filling us in on the situation?" he asked.

The Wards quieted at that. I could feel their interest grow behind me.

I acquiesced, "We're in the midzone of the beach and city, a mile at least to either side. No optimal covering for at least several blocks, but no people either. The area is deserted."

As I said it, I realized just how strange that was. There was no way the town could have possibly evacuated in time.

Where was everyone?

I continued, "Um. It looks like the area was emptied recently, maybe in the last hour." I concentrated on a cockroach that had just fallen into a pot of mildly warm stew.

Miss Militia rejoined our group with a frown. "No eyes on the Simurgh just yet. But there's something else that's unsettling."

"If it's about the people, we know," Clockblocker interjected. "Skitter was just telling us."

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow at me and I took that as my cue. "There's nobody here within six and a half blocks. It's like everyone upped and left."

She nodded. "Chevalier and Dragon reported the same. Let's move further north and scout the area. Vista?"

Vista stepped forward and my whole perception became skewed. The distance to the larger buildings was shortened dramatically, and my bugs were giving me confused readings all around. The distortion ended and I almost tripped over a fire hydrant that was placed in my way. I couldn't tell if that was on purpose or not.

We were almost directly in the city now, the first skyscraper less than two blocks away. The bugs that I had been scouting with were suddenly out of my range and I frowned, quickly gathering new ones. It would've been nice to have a warning.

I wasn't crazy about our new position, either. Ever since I had seen Siberian topple a skyscraper, I've felt a little uneasy being in the middle of them for a fight.

I felt trapped. At least my range would extend.

Kid Win took to the skies, flying low and ahead of us. I saw another ship land not far from where we were, though it became hidden by a series of giant metal beach balls stacked on top of each other, a promo for some sports store.

I felt more than saw Miss Militia and Weld flick their eyes towards me more than once, a silent agreement between the two to keep me in their sight at all times. I couldn't blame them, but at the moment we had bigger fish to fry.

 _"C-8 Simurgh landing Stopper's Place NE."_

We froze and collectively checked our armbands. A marker blinked on the map, placing the Simurgh about a mile off our location. Kid Win rejoined us, landing with a metal clink of his armor against the pavement.

"Don't focus on the scream," Miss Militia spoke first. I hadn't noticed it until she mentioned it, which defeated the purpose. It was a subtle note that had taken residence in my mind, high enough to break glass.

It could easily sound like the high-end of a piccolo's range, but I had a feeling that if I tried to associate something positive with it, it would be all the more effective. Upon that thought the sound grew an edge, turning into a steady, near-silent shriek. I tried desperately not to think on it after that.

I had no idea whether Dragon and Defiant's tech was softening the shriek or at least its effects, but I couldn't imagine trying to last against an Endbringer with the sound any louder.

"What are your orders?" I asked.

As much as it pained me, I didn't know what to do here. I had tried to ignore it until now, but there was a part of me, the part that was hopefully untainted by the Simurgh, that said I wasn't in the right mind to call the shots. I had been prepared to turn myself in and cut ties with the Undersiders today. I had been ready to gamble _everything_ , and to be in that same mindset here, now? I could suck up my pride and admit that I wasn't going to be doing much good as leader.

It felt strange not to be in charge after leading my own team, though. But the thought of Trickster shut up the feeling. There were parts of him and I that were similar, miniscule qualities maybe, but they were still there.

I wasn't going to end up like him.

Miss Militia looked surprised. "We-"

A crash interrupted her. The stack of beach balls was blasted off its foundation by a wave of light, half of them splitting open and melting onto the pavement.

Another flash of light erupted at the end of the block and we split off without order, the Wards and Miss Militia taking shelter behind a corner bookstore while Gully and the red boy dove for cover through the store front of a local boutique.

I wasn't far behind them when I was shoved to the ground. I barely managed to turn my face to avoid breaking my nose before I squeezed my eyes shut against another burst of light. Heat rushed over me, scalding enough to burn like nothing I had ever experienced before. It ended before I could do more than gasp.

I opened my eyes and came face-to-face with a half-melted arm.

"Don't move."

 _Weld._

I waited patiently as he got to his feet though the heat radiating from his metal skin made my flesh burn. When I felt the relatively cooler air against my neck I shifted, and upon hearing no protest I gingerly stood up.

The upper half of his body looked like an old bottle of silver nail polish. His skin was running slowly over itself, then reabsorbing and repeating the process. One of his arms was pointed with what looked like the shrapnel from the beach balls and his other arm was slowly pooling back into place, but he looked the most upset over the half of his face that had been rubbed off.

His pants were more or less intact, though I suspected they wouldn't be for long. The light had practically vaporized them, leaving them the consistency of tissue paper. Parts were already fluttering away in the breeze, revealing a flame-retardant suit much like the one he wore against the Nine.

Though a little crispy, the purple crust-helmet had survived. _Impressive._

More crashes sounded further away and I saw the tip of the Simurgh's wing above a skyscraper as she dodged a hit from Eidolon and Legend combined, Alexandria coming close to almost swiping her with a fist. Almost was the key word.

One of Dragon's suits hung towards the back, engaging the Simurgh with shockingly green rays that zigzagged like lightning bolts. It missed but provided Legend the chance to hit her full-on with his lasers. Clumps of the Simurgh's feathers looked burnt at best, but it was something.

The shots that had been fired at us were only the aftershock of the true blast. The Simurgh unleashed a storm of light from her artillery, prompting the heroes to barely dodge out of the way as she laid to waste an entire city block. Dragon's ship wasn't so lucky. I could hear capes scream above the sound of screeching metal and crumbling stone.

 _"Fuck,"_ Weld muttered.

 _"C-8 Top deceased, Girlpower deceased, Throne of Fists deceased-"_

"Regroup!" Miss Militia hollered, her weapon forming into a bazooka her size.

Vista and Clockblocker stood at the ready, freezing and distorting the incoming shrapnel while Kid Win prepared what looked like a handheld version of the laser he used against Leviathan. It rang with a high-pitched whine that I could hear from the other end of the street.

Crucible completed their defense by throwing out concentrated force fields of heat, incinerating everything in its bubble. _The name fits,_ I noted absently.

I sent several swarm decoys out to distract the Simurgh but she didn't spare them a glance before vaporizing them with another piece of tinker tech. The blow carried over to the building behind my swarm, and nearly an entire floor's windows shattered simultaneously.

I gathered what bugs I could find and set them on the heroes below. " _Falling glass,"_ I said, and they didn't waste time in clearing out as shards the size of my foot fell from the building.

I dashed forward with Weld hot on my heels, having to stop and dive behind a street bench as a spray of light fell down. I saw the source of it when it shot again. The Simurgh had found some sort of laser and had massively tinkered with it, the weapon circling her like a moon in orbit. It flashed into sight only when she was employing it, and she had half a dozen toys with her that implied the laser was being used for a specific purpose. Other than terrorizing humanity, that is.

Legend had found the gun as well and was in the middle of shooting at it, her and everything around her to get a lucky shot in when she vanished.

 _What?_

And then I remembered Tattletale's message. _The Simurgh may have a teleportation device in her weaponry._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Tell me if you think any characters are OOC (especially Miss Militia- my favorite but the hardest to write dialogue for minus Kid Win). I've applied my own headcanon to how I think some of the Wards would react to the Irregulars. The Wards never interacted with them, which I think would've been interesting. I wonder if there were some hard feelings?**

 **Feel free to lay into me about the character's powers if I'm doing them wrong. Actually, _please_ do. Vista and Clockblocker's abilities absolutely scramble my brains. I already wrote chapter three and half of four, but if I'm getting something completely wrong or if there's a better way to do it, let me know and I'll see if I can fix it.**

 **Also, I couldn't remember if Kid Win had a booster pack or not, but for the sake of this story he created it after the Echidna fight. Yep.**

 **Please let me know of any errors you see. Comments, questions; all critique is welcome and will be thanked profusely with my tears (of pain or joy, both work). I'll start labeling these chapters once I have some groundwork built.**

 **See you next time.**


	3. Cumulus 1-3

**A/N:**

 **Hey guys! I updated one day early because I've been wanting to hear your guys' thoughts on it for a _long_ time. I'm glad I took this long to upload it, though, because I've already got the next chapter written out and I'm working on the fifth one as you'll read this. As before, count on it being roughly two weeks till the next update. Hopefully I'll have the sixth nearly finished by then.**

 **Also, thank you so much to those who've followed/favorited/reviewed! Your support means bunches to me. A special thanks to Dakaath for giving me the lowdown on Clockblocker's powers.**

 **Xyfa: That's an interesting thought! I never related Taylor to the Simurgh, but I can see it now. Both leave a path of destruction in their wake, however intentional it may be. As for the firepower, I've always thought both could be far more destructive if they tried. Taylor wouldn't because of her morals (how she wouldn't use lethal bugs on most criminals). The Simurgh gives off a mystery that wasn't solved even at the end, and it makes you wonder just what her intentions were. Anyways, I'm glad you liked it! Here's to hoping this chapter lives up to the others.**

* * *

 _"C-8 Blockman deceased, Grain down, Feathered Thorn deceased, Skillet deceased-"_

I sprung to my feet and finished the last of the distance to Miss Militia and the Wards. "She's gone," I said, breathless. "Teleported."

Miss Militia was already speaking into her armband but Clockblocker swore. "Shit. Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

I had to agree. If she could teleport, what was really stopping her from going to Brockton Bay right now as predicted? Then I heard the sound of an explosion a mile away and knew that she had engaged another team of capes.

 _"-Twist deceased, Erasi deceased, Chevalier down-"_

So what _was_ the Simurgh here for? It was my running theory that Endbringers had more of a reason for appearing then just targeting chaotic, despair-laden cities.

What kept her here? _Or who?_ I added belatedly.

It looked like the others had gotten onto the same train of thought. Miss Militia shifted her body so as not to have her back against me. It didn't go unnoticed.

Across the street, Gully and the red boy were climbing out of the storefront, the former sporting an ugly gash across her forehead that oozed blood at a steady rate. She walked fine though, rubbing away the blood when it reached her eyes with hardly a blink.

"Orders from above. We're pulling out," Miss Militia said, lowering her arm. Her hand rested on the machinegun that materialized at her side. "There's too much risk with our group if the Simurgh gets her hands on us."

It wasn't hard to guess which of us she meant, but the others could pose a definite problem as well. Clockblocker could pull something akin to what Gray Boy did if he found a way around the drawbacks, though his power would be more merciful considering the person wouldn't stay aware in their frozen state. Miss Militia could mass-murder hundreds, _thousands_ with the right artillery in the right place.

And I hadn't covered what _Vista_ could do.

A part of me wanted to point that out if only to show that I wasn't the only one we had to worry about, but it would defeat the purpose. The point was to stay calm, not start a fight.

The armbands continued the read-off of deceased and downed capes. No word from Tattletale.

My bugs sensed a flurry whip up before Vista distorted the street to get us back to the ship without waiting for the order. The sounds of the fight boomed across the sky, and the crazy thought of splitting from the group to provide some sort of backup passed my mind. I threw the thought out before I could begin to process it.

I've made questionable choices before, had some not-so-great ideas, but I tried not to go out of my way to be stupid.

As soon as we crossed through the distortion, Dragon landed next to the ship and raised a hand: _Stop._

We did. Miss Militia blinked, "What's going on?"

Dragon jerked a finger towards the way we came and pulled up a display on her armor. It was a photo of a flock of sheep in a meadow. The photo changed to a promotion shot for some Las Vegas team. I only knew that because of their flashy costumes.

 _Why not use the armbands?_ I wondered.

Dragon switched back to the sheep then to the capes, flickering back to back with an intensity that was thick despite the lack of speech. It wasn't hard to figure out the meaning.

Sheep were herded. We were capes.

The sound of the fight increased tenfold, and I felt as much as heard dozens of capes enter my range. Buildings were toppled, a wave of snow came crashing through another street to push the capes forward. I felt a portion of my swarm be vaporized along with an entire team that got caught up in the blast.

We were being pressed together by the Simurgh.

"Vista!" Miss Militia beckoned, and the young cape rushed to the front once more. Buildings and streets were torn out of our way as we were transported halfway across the city. There was the clap of thunder.

I wasn't sure what happened, but the next thing I knew I was sprawled on the ground fifteen feet away from Kid Win, a deep burn aching across my chest.

My bugs were a sensory mess. I felt a good ten capes be roasted by something akin to a flamethrower, another three ripped in half by another of the Simurgh's artillery. The remains of a foot landed with a _plop_ beside me and I knew that Vista's distortion had been interrupted. We were in the middle of a crowded, uneven battleground.

The wind knocked out of me, it took the better part of a second to gather my bearings.

Chevalier stormed his way to the front lines like a knight of old, slashing his cannon blade against an arc of fire pellets that shot out from the Simurgh. He canceled half of them, the other half deflecting aimlessly into a molten pot hole. Behind him fought Defiant.

The Simurgh hardly went out of her way to protect the tinker tech around her as it was blown up and sawed to pieces by Chevalier and Defiant's joint efforts. She dodged to the side when one blow came too close to her body, but other than firing off the odd shot, she let her artillery be creamed.

 _They're expendable,_ I realized, and a sense of hopelessness washed over me. If the guns that were destroying our defenses easily held no worth to her, what about the one that d _id?_ Alexandria flew into the fray with a busted street lamp held like a lance and managed to nick another of the Simurgh's tech before getting a face full of fire. From the waxy texture of half her face, I could safely say the heat was par to Sundancer's.

The light gun came into existence beside the Simurgh and erupted off a few quick bursts. While a laser had the ability to pierce straight through, this thing worked like a scanner. Some might call it a slow process if they were aiming for the core, but here it was unfortunately effective. Capes were collapsing all around me, some with their flesh partially stripped away, others gunned down by the surviving artillery.

The Simurgh deftly turned in the air to avoid a hyper-beam of Eidolon's. I caught the edge of her face as she called laptops, flat screens and other tech to fold over her like a cocoon against the capes' fire. Her eyes were dead. A dead man's eyes were empty, a shell without anything inside. But at least they gave the impression that something used to be there.

The Simurgh lacked that. _Artificial_ was the word that came to mind _._

Snow flushed out from her and compiled into the size of a freight train, swatting Eidolon to the ground. Two of our strongest fighters taken down like flies in the wind.

 _Need to get out of direct fire._ My mask was more than skewed on my face and it felt strange, like a layer had been peeled away. I struggled to my feet, ignoring the steady burn across my chest until I felt it accompanied by a breeze.

I looked down.

The front of my costume was gone. I didn't know if my theory was actually correct or if I had really come that close to being incinerated, but it looked like someone had taken scissors and carefully cut the front from the back. It didn't explain why my mask was still intact if my front armor was zapped out of existence, but I wasn't about to sit down and theorize. The back of my costume had stuck to me up until that point, and it peeled off like a second skin to land _gently_ on the torn concrete.

Fuck.

At least I still had clothes. A quick check ensured that my bike leggings had survived, Dinah's notes tucked in the waistband, and I felt a rush of gratitude that I hadn't given them up after Burnscar melted my first pair to my legs.

My undershirt gave the idea of modesty, but up close I could see it was mostly in threads from where I had skid across the ground. My scars peeked through the low cut, the tips of them curving out like pointed teeth. The exposed skin was scraped raw.

 _Fuck._

I grabbed what remained of my costume and ran till I reached an area that didn't immediately have death raining upon it. After enough deliberation, I set the spiders from the swarm that had resided in my armor on it to spilt the silk into parts. I wrapped two pieces around my feet for some improvised shoes.

The rest I used to haphazardly tie my armor panels and utility compartment on, holding them in place with some added spider silk that I had drifting upon me from the fliers. It wasn't perfect, and I felt just as exposed as when my identity was blown _-_

 _Chest stripped, back flayed._

 _-_ but it was the best I could do.

I squashed the urge to cover my scars as I hurried across the battleground, sending my bugs out to map my surroundings. I set more spiders to create cords of silk while I dodged stray fire.

My arm band was nonexistent, and for a moment I had to wonder at my horrible luck with them. Two out of three destroyed before the fight began, and the one that worked had been designed to work against me. The scream in my mind rose and I grit my teeth, pushing my beaten legs to cover as much distance as possible.

That was when the world exploded.

The laser gun flickered into existence once more and targeted the block over, emitting a light so intense that even turned away, eyes shut on instinct, I could still see the neighborhood. I was knocked to the ground by a barrel of wind, and for a dizzying moment I felt like I had been stuck in a blender with a disco ball. My body was battered and covered in burning ashes. Blotches of technicolor flickered on my vision.

I cracked my eyes open. I almost thought I was blind again, but gradually the scene dribbled into place like a runny canvas over the sketch of the original neighborhood that still sat on my eyes.

There were only ruins left. This wasn't just one block decimated but two, three… Almost a mile stretched before me leading towards the beach, blackened soot where there used to be buildings and people.

 _What the hell?_

The capes around me, the _survivors_ , were deathly silent. Our armbands didn't list off the dead.

The Simurgh still hovered in her place, the laser gun vanished.

A dozen voices broke out at once, all shouting different orders, requests for help and other incoherent words. I didn't know who was left, my swarm just about obliterated from that last shot, but I gathered together the bugs I could to enhance my voice.

 _"Scatter! She's getting ready for another shot!"_ I screamed, trying to heed my own instructions. My legs and arms were glorified noodles, but I managed to scramble to my feet as the few capes that heard me ran for their lives.

This was too much death. _Way_ too much. Behemoth was supposed to be the "hero killer", not her. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the Simurgh wasn't looking for a fight. She wanted a massacre.

Dragon dropped from the skies and shot off numerous rockets in defense as I turned my attention to the field. Gully was supporting the side of a building that had split from the seams, several wounded capes beneath the rubble. I spotted the red boy hoisting them out three at a time.

Chevalier dug himself out of a pile of rubble and sprung forward with a thrust of his cannon blade as a busted up Defiant peeled off to the side and followed up with a spray of liquid.

Legend and Eidolon completed the formation behind the Simurgh, combining a single beam that hit her solid in the back.

I saw the laser gun appear. What happened after was the combination of the perfect chances.

Just as the Simurgh directed her attention towards Eidolon who held an impressive target on her back, Dragon floated to the side and her stance created a small window of opportunity between her waist and left arm. Her body blocked that of a legless boy who lay not far from where the line of soot began. His guts were splayed out, half his arm mangled beyond comprehension, but with one last ounce of strength he directed a finger towards the Simurgh.

A splash of blue lightning danced from his fingertip. There was no way of telling if it were actually pointed at the laser gun, but it hit Dragon's armor and tunneled through the space she created just as the delicate gun shifted around the Simurgh. Dragon dropped from the sky, jet pack sputtering before she was able to gather her balance and direct herself safely to the ground.

The Simurgh's laser gun was smoldering. She vanished from sight just as Alexandria rejoined the fight. I didn't allow myself to celebrate. We may have crushed the immediate worry, but the Endbringer was still in the city. I spotted a truckload of snow fall from the sky several blocks away.

I reached out with my swarm, feeling for the capes that were left. Vista and Clockblocker, a third person that I couldn't make out in between them on the ground. My bugs traced over the remains of a scarf. Miss Militia.

The blood drained out of my face. We were on opposite sides, but she was one of the good ones. When I wasn't dressing up like Alexandria as a kid, it was Miss Militia who I begged my mom for posters of. I wasn't embarrassed to say I admired her, _respected_ her.

My arrival did nothing to shake Clockblocker's concentration as he knelt over her unconscious body. A rag had been placed over her lower face to preserve her identity. Her skin was covered in cuts deep and shallow where her clothes had been burned away, but it was the wound on her head that worried me.

She could count her blessings that it wasn't at the back of her head where the medulla was, but head injuries were a tricky business. A sizable bump had already formed on her forehead. The skin was scraped away, revealing a patch of blood that was welling over. Charred matter flecked on her face and it took me a while to recognize it for the gunk that was supposed to keep our heads safe and Simurgh-free.

"I don't want to hurry you, but I do at the same time," I said.

"We need to evacuate." Clockblocker said. "To point out the obvious, she needs medical attention." My bugs caught the almost imperceptible tremor of his voice. Vista stood by, jaw set. Everybody had their own way to cope.

I eyed the bruising that was still blooming on Miss Militia's skin. "Did you move her neck?" I asked.

Though I couldn't see his face, looks reserved for sheer idiots had a way of translating across mediums. I grimaced. Dumb question, yes, but I knew enough first aid that moving someone with a head injury like that was usually a bad idea, especially if they weren't awake.

"To the best of my ability, no," came his answer after he let me _feel_ the silence.

I nodded approvingly. "That's good."

I handed him the cords of silk my spiders had already weaved and he accepted them without comment, beginning the arduous task of wrapping up her arms, face and neck.

With that being done, I wasn't sure what else we could do. The area was decorated with mostly the dead, and there were the telltale signs of the battle raging on not far from where we hid. We needed to get moving before the Simurgh could enact whatever she had planned.

Kid Win joined us not long after Clockblocker had finished the last of the wrappings. He didn't spare me more than a glance, but I saw his eyes trail down to where my scars peeked out.

I hunched over as he looked away.

A burst of orange lit up our spot in the alley. I knew without turning that it was too late to dodge, but my muscles tightened and my meager swarm condensed to provide a curtain. Vista started to move but fell to her knees, screaming just as a slab of metal was thrown into the fireball's path.

Kid Win stumbled over in his armor to where Vista was crumbled on the ground. Not a few feet away laid what remained of the metal and I started towards it, stopping only for a trashcan lid that was leaned against the wall. I tossed it into the molten puddle for the off-chance that it would work.

A face materialized.

Weld opened his mouth, a shallow divot with lips. _Feed me_. I quickly scanned the alley for more metal. I never appreciated how much trash could be found in the streets until I got my powers. Trash brought bugs, but there was an added bonus now: lots of trash was metal.

I never really thought about it until I _thought_ about it. Cans, pipes, screws and springs. The gross needles that I avoided. Everything short of the dumpster at the end of the alley was thrown into the slowly-forming Weld. It was surreal how he rose from his puddle, almost like a showgirl from her oversized cake. I knew that he was nigh-invincible. He could shape his sections of his body into weapons, and I saw firsthand how his defense held up against Mannequin and Crawler. Nevertheless, I was surprised he was alive.

Another explosion set everyone into action.

Kid Win supported Vista with one arm and helped Clockblocker carry Miss Militia with the other. It was careful work, serious as a surgical procedure for even the slightest movement could cause ramifications if her injuries were as bad as they looked.

At least we were moving now, though it would be slow-going. The way Kid Win was moving struck me as odd. It seemed forced, hardly like the smooth gait he usually had from the times I had seen him fight. Vista was hunched over, one hand clutching her head while the other clung to Kid Win. Something with the attack had messed her up.

I looked behind us where Weld moved carefully, his "skin" dripping off him in small drops. He looked like the Swamp Monster from the old films, with the added bonus of his more _private_ areas being indiscriminate blobs that moved with the rest of the molten tide.

This wasn't going to work. Where was the rest of our team? My bugs scoured the area as unnaturally cold snow began to fall at a steady rate. Gully and red boy, transporting capes to a street out of the line of fire. Crucible was nowhere to be found.

I had a pretty good idea about why the Simurgh had pressed us together like this. Our reason for spreading apart was to save numbers, yet she obviously planned on decimating us all.

Why?

Her shtick was screwing with people's minds so that they could carry out horrible deeds later on. Sleeper spies in the enemy's cell. The Simurgh had already shown that she could teleport, so the reasons for her being here were dwindling.

I caught up with Kid Win.

"Could I use your arm band?" I asked. My bugs were beginning to drop from the temperature and I was having to use fliers to carry the more effective bugs, leaving the smaller ones to die.

He turned to face me, stopping Clockblocker and Vista in their path. I heard a small moan escape the girl cape.

"It doesn't work," he said. Tense.

His was broken, too? "Then your com, maybe? I need to-"

" _None_ of it works," he cut in. "The tech is all dead."

 _Oh._ This was becoming worse by the minute.

I didn't have to ask to know that Vista was in no position to get us out of here. Kid Win's suit was moving only by the strength of his own body, which meant that any tinker tech we had available was barred from us. Along with Miss Militia's state and Weld's barely-solid body, we needed to get out of here now more than ever.

I chewed my lip and scanned the area. Most of my bugs had been obliterated a block west, and the remaining ones skittered across charred ground. No one in sight. A little north from there was where the Simurgh was currently. My bugs crawled over something wet and for a moment I thought it was blood. But it was solid. I tried a check with my bugs' sensors and I got the feel of something _cold._

More snow.

Clockblocker and Kid Win muttered in low tones to each other before heading off northwest. Towards the fight.

Defiant and Dragon were engaging, each keeping up with the Simurgh's pace. I had no idea how they were still able to move despite relying on technology, but at the moment I couldn't care less. The two were working in complete synchronization. Each shot fired was backed up by another's shield. When Dragon flew high, Defiant struck low with his spear. They were actually forcing the Simurgh back, though I couldn't say if it were another ruse like Leviathan's. I could only hope that Defiant had learned from last time.

"Wait, she's there," I said. The bug's sight became painfully bright and I had to shut it off, focusing instead on the bugs I had attached to legs and gauntlets.

From the thirty or so capes that were present in that area, only five survived. Two were Defiant and Dragon, though the former seemed a little worse for wear. A heavy blanket of snow crushed my bugs that had stayed on the ground. The ones I had placed on the Simurgh suddenly vanished from the area, throwing me off guard. _She's teleporting again._

The Simurgh reappeared east.

"She teleported, three blocks away," I pointed. The gesture was accented by the deafening crumble of a skyscraper _._

"Show us the way," Clockblocker said, and if his hands were free I bet the words would've been followed by a sweeping gesture. I paused for a moment, considering the routes before heading south. My bugs swept the area and found nothing but more snow, which I found worrying.

The Simurgh wasn't following her usual MO. Never had I read about her laying snow on the battleground. It was a known evasive maneuver that she tended to favor, an attack that was used quite often, but from what I knew she didn't usually spread it on the ground.

It was working, whatever her reason. Capes that could stand were slipping over themselves, others shivering in some areas that were knee deep. Any bugs in the area were starting to drop at the temperature. Though we weren't near the mess, I could feel the cold burrowing itself under my skin.

It was at a snail's pace that we made it one block, I having switched places with Kid Win to better support Miss Militia.

My bugs felt it before we did.

It was a vibration in the air, and I watched with horror and a thousand tiny eyes as a blanket of snow dropped out of nowhere, blocking our path and wiping out my swarm. I picked up the Simurgh blocks away, which meant that she had to have created the snow and then teleported it over without moving from her spot, showing that her level of awareness was far higher than I previously thought. We stood still for a moment, waiting for a second attack. None came.

"Okay," I said, sounding more confident than I felt. If the Simurgh knew where we were, there was no point in trying to hide. "We go through?" It hadn't meant to be a question, but then again, I didn't know. I still wasn't confident that I was in the right mindset to be in charge.

Weld stepped forward, his body still dripping. He immersed himself in the snow and buckets of steam came from the pile. Out of my swarm, a lone fruit fly had survived. I sent it over to map out the path he made. It was enough.

I helped Clockblocker maneuver Miss Militia through the forming hole, Kid Win and Vista following behind. What struck me was the feel of the steam, not hot or cold but room temp. It was a strange thing to notice, but I hadn't ever experienced anything like it. I wasn't supposed to. It was unnatural.

It was one of those things that I could point out in the moment and say, _This is what I'm going to remember later._

I couldn't sense any bugs in the area except the ones that were underground, and those were already being sent up to the surface. They weren't going to make it before us. But the walls of the snow cave were starting to look weak from Weld's path and Clockblocker couldn't risk jostling Miss Militia, so we couldn't afford to wait around and see what lay on the other side.

That was a mistake.

Weld paused at the front of our group. He didn't speak, his vocal chords hadn't formed yet, but he turned his head in a degree that would've snapped a normal person's neck and the look said enough. My fruit fly twisted by him and flew out into the open air. It landed on a leg, then another. And another.

"It's a trap," I said.

Before I finished uttering those words, Weld was already trying to push us back without touching us. It was awkward moving with the unconscious Miss Militia. The space around us was little more than Weld-sized, and though he was _big_ , he wasn't wide enough for more than one person at a time. I tried not to scrape against the walls as I shuffled through, but it didn't matter.

There was a groan of shifting weight, then half our light disappeared. The exit has caved in. Kid Win couldn't stop himself in time and slipped into the mass, causing the snow on top of us to begin to crumble. With the weight above us, we weren't going to survive its collapse.

Making up his mind, Weld dashed out the front so we could escape before the snow crushed us. We toppled out partially covered in snow, not exactly film-quality where we managed to escape in the nick of time, but I would still call it close.

We entered a ring.

All of the other capes were present, both alive and dead, some with limbs spread out like they'd been dropped a story. I spotted Chevalier and Defiant working hand-in-hand to destroy the snow walls. They were making excellent headway, and capes that could move supported the injured out. Dragon was a force of her own, transporting the capes that were alive to beyond the ring, not once breaking stride. Narwhal and a young cape crafted force fields that spliced through entire sections of the Simurgh's pig pen.

I could only assume the Triumvirate was still engaging the Simurgh, blind to what was going on across the city.

Honestly, this wasn't hard to escape from. A giant bowl of snow, no lid. I knew from the vibration my lone fruit fly picked up that this wasn't a trap meant to keep us in.

 _It was meant to keep us busy_ , I thought as the avalanche formed.

It blotted out the sun.

There was maybe a scream or two, but all I could really think was how anticlimactic it was. I was actually offended by it. Buried to death by snow? In the _summer?_

The snow above us was maybe ten seconds away from hitting, broad enough that there wasn't a chance to outrun it unless it was with super speed or tinker tech. Both we lacked as a whole, except for Dragon and Defiant. But they were already occupied with blasting apart the falling mass, joined by the other long-ranged hitters. Our group had none.

 _Eight._

I wasted no time in spinning back, driving Clockblocker towards the snow wall.

"To the cave! Run!" I screamed above dozens of other voices.

 _Seven._

The worms that were just making it above surface were trampled underfoot as chaos ran amuck. Some capes tried for the walls as we were, others stayed with their injured comrades. Others just stayed.

 _Six._

Vista tripped and Kid Win grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her into the cave while Clockblocker let go of Miss Militia to freeze the snow wall.

 _Five._

I was left to support Miss Militia on my own. She suddenly jerked awake and ripped some of her bandages in the process, and blood trickled down my body from the dozens of cuts that littered her own.

 _Four._

She caught onto the situation fast as I struggled to drag her body though the cave, and she weakly shuffled her legs to keep us ahead of the crowd that pushed at our backs.

 _Three._

Weld must have deemed his skin safe enough for handling, for I felt a solid yet bumpy metal band loop around my waist and my vision flipped upside down. I caught the bottom of Miss Militia's boots as Weld wrapped his other arm under her shoulders and hoisted her off her feet.

 _Two._

We didn't make it to one.

Instead, we fell forward and never hit the ground.

There was the unexplainable sense of flying. I had felt it many times before, once already today. I think this was the closest I'd ever get to actual weightlessness.

The snow cave broke away like an egg shell and I felt my control over my lone fruit fly be torn away. For a moment I thought there had been some sort of explosion, but below us were clouds. Unless the Simurgh had blown through the entire world and our atmosphere hadn't burst, we'd just been teleported.

My whole body lurched against Weld's iron grip and I squeezed my eyes shut in pain, feeling like I was going to be ripped in half. Mercifully, my body slipped away from his grasp and I drifted away through the air. I had never fallen like this before, where there was enough time to register what was happening a _nd_ reflect on it. I noted the way the air pushed against my arms and legs like that of a doll.

My ears twitched. Above the fierce wind against my face, I heard something else. I think they were screams, but a part of it sounded like a song.

 _A name?_

Something in my brain clicked and a word popped into my mind, interesting enough to rise above the confusion. _Portal._

I opened my eyes and saw the tear through reality. The inside of the snow cave was pictured, dozens of capes forced to the ground from the impact of the Simurgh's snow. Injured, but alive. Relief settled in the back of my mind, unimportant but comfortable in its presence. _Clockblocker's power worked._

The portal moved along with me as I fell, inexplicably keeping me in its focus. A flash of green pushed through the crowd in the cave and I saw Dragon make her way to the front, a scraped Defiant behind her. She stretched out a hand and it met against an invisible wall. Her palm rested against it.

I turned my face away from the portal, then. I didn't want my last image to be of capes.

The wind laced through my hair and turned my view of the sky into a mess of black tendrils. For just a second I heard nothing, felt nothing. The near-constant tug of my passenger was absent, and for the first time in months I felt…

Whole?

That wasn't the word, too complete _._ _Content_ was better.

I wished I hadn't picked yellow lenses for my mask. It would've been nice to see the color of the sky, but knowing my fortune, it was probably better this way. There was a good chance that it was grey. I imagined it a bright blue instead.

Two crumpled notes slipped from my waistband, catching my eye. My hand reached for them far too late, and I watched as they joined the oblivion of the vast sky, fingers stretched, palms up.

Then I hit the ground.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So.**

 **That's the end of the "first chapter" that I had written out in Word. Glad that's all finally uploaded.**

 **In case any of you were wondering: No, this is not a Timetravel! AU.** **I don't know what more I can reveal/write without accidentally spoiling something or giving you guys the wrong ideas, so hang with me for two weeks to see what's going on.**

 **I wrote this under the idea that Miss Militia could probably be knocked out if only for a short while. It's like she's basically sleeping involuntarily, so an attack that would usually render someone horribly unconscious would only inhibit her for several minutes to several hours. That doesn't mean she doesn't have to deal with the hurt that comes with it, just that she's awake.**

 **I stalked several threads to see if anyone had anything to say about Miss Militia's physical abilities (barring her perfect memory and lack of need for sleep), but there was nothing. So I'm thinking that if she can go almost a year without sleep, her endurance and energy levels must be pretty good, at least better than a normal humans. Maybe Captain America level? I think they'd be the best super duo. They could meet over burgers and coke and talk about good ol' America.**

 **(I kinda want to write that now).**

 **Anyways, I'm rambling. Let me know any problems with character, power or plot or stupid English mistakes. Anything you find too unbelievable or just ridiculous and I'll try to fix it or excuse it away. (; But in all seriousness, I love all sorts of critique! So lay it on me, fanfiction!**

 **See you in two weeks!**


	4. Cumulus 1-4

**A/N:**

 **I'm back! The quarter is ending but my next classes look like a bear to attend, so we'll see how that affects my update time.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and faves/follows!**

 **Drako90451: I'm glad you like the character interactions. Those things cost me most of the time it takes to write these chapters, so it means a lot. I think you'll find what you're looking for in this chapter. (:**

 **The Hero named Villain: I'm not sure. I don't think Taylor is that vindictive. If she were to expose SS, I'd think she would've done it sooner in canon when SS still held weight to all of her problems. But who knows? Thanks for the question!**

 **OMAC001: Who said anything about new trigger event? (;**

 **The world of Worm belongs to the marvelous Wildbow.**

* * *

The kitchen table was cluttered with old newspapers and coffee stains. Phone books and scrunched-up notes with phone numbers scribbled in pen were laid out in impalpable order, some overlapping the other while others were stacked loosely in a pile. At first glance there was only a single pen, but a mere tilt of the head revealed at least five others buried under the mess.

I imagined a tinker's lab would look like this.

Before me sat a folder labeled 'BBPD', Brockton Bay Police Department. Thin, innocuous and innocent enough despite its contents. I knew without flipping it open what lay inside. I had read over its words many times before, enough that I'd probably be able to recite them for years.

Still, I opened it.

 _"Mr. Daniel Hebert and Miss Taylor Hebert,_

 _Due to the lack of substantial leads and evidence and recent exposure of possible first-party involvement, all investigations have been dropped and another investigation must take precedence._

 _The allegations of child abuse must and will be followed by thorough inspection. Your cooperation is expected and will be appreciated. If the results reflect positively, the initial investigation will restart at the earliest possible time._

 _Signed,_

 _Officer Seth Beckman"_

It was all a joke. A huge, _fucking_ joke.

Other cities weren't like this.

It had hardly been a month and they were already _dropping_ it? It was ridiculous. Yet a part of me knew there was hardly any evidence except for my scars, and even those were hard to believe by the look of them. If it weren't for my hospital stay a month earlier, there'd be no record of my body before then.

My hand was halfway towards my chest before I noticed. It had become a regular occurrence these days, a subconscious need to see if it all of this were real, to try and associate myself with this new, foreign body and the lack of something that hadn't been much to begin with.

I clenched my hand into a fist and dropped it.

There were rules with cases like mine, at least I liked to _think_ there were. The more violent they were, the more time devoted to them to prevent it from happening to someone else.

For one thing, child abuse speculations, especially once made official like this document had done, would have me removed from the home immediately. Ideally.

As soon as the ink was dry, they'd be dishing out the necessary papers to remove me from my father's custody and into my nearest family's hands. Since I didn't have any, it would be to a foster home for me.

 _I guess that's something to be thankful for,_ I thought grimly, applying my positive flip to every negative. _Any other city and I'd be out of my home._

Brockton Bay already had too much on its plate to worry about proper procedures for one insignificant case. The E88, ABB and other bands of villains made it almost impossible for the proper time to be devoted to the victims. As soon as one crime was finished, another began. There was no end.

A part of me believed that if I made it known that I was parahuman, the investigation wouldn't be closed. The PRT would have to be involved, if they weren't already from the flashing arrows that pointed to my scars being a parahuman's work.

I saw my dad's face across the table.

He looked aged, worn out and hung to dry like old laundry. For a man of his forties, he looked well into his fifties. Grey hairs bordering white streaked through his already thinning crop, and a new line was added to his face every day.

"Taylor," he mumbled. The last time I'd heard him sound like this was when mom died.

He swallowed and I watched his throat move beneath the stubble that had accrued after weeks without shaving. My dad wasn't able to grow a beard for the life of him, which was for the best. It didn't suit him.

"After- after _this_ is all over," his voice cracked, "and I've saved up some money, maybe we can-"

He cut himself off and I knew where this was headed. He'd brought it up before.

Reconstructive surgery.

"They say it's a simple procedure," he tried. He kept his eyes locked on mine, careful not to let them wander down. It was something I'd noticed the doctors and officers had done.

I often found myself suspicious of others when they looked at me, always wondering, _Do they know? Can they tell?_

"If it's the money you're worried about, I have my connections, I-" he began to grow fervor and I had to stop him.

"No," I said, cutting him short. Just like that, the life went out of him once more and I regretted my words.

But not my choice.

I had nothing against reconstructive surgery, but for me it felt like it'd be trying to forget. I didn't _want_ to forget, not when everyone else seemed keen on it. The police, my dad. Me, in some ways. I didn't want to remember the moment I tore off my shirt and witnessed the horror done to my chest. My back.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that if I tried to forget and erase the evidence of what had been taken from me, I'd be letting them win. I didn't know _who_ or _what,_ just that I'd lose. And I was tired of losing.

I still hated my scars.

Some nights I woke up in a cold sweat, never screaming but always aware of a sense of _loss,_ an emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole till I was forgotten by the whole world. The feeling never really left during the day.

But they were a part of me, now, in a twisted sort of way. I didn't like them; I didn't think I ever could, and I sure as hell didn't run to embrace them. It was more along the lines of, _I can live with this._

Whatever had done this to me, I survived. I survived mom's death and I survived Emma's betrayal. The locker, the bullies. These scars were like my ugly, tattered battle flags that I never asked for, always there to remind me that I was stronger than I believed.

Above all else, I ignored my other reason: The last thing I wanted was to let one more person see what had been done to me. The doctors and police who already saw, who'd _documented_ it-

I swallowed. There was no way I was going to add to that list.

"No, dad," I repeated. I mustered a smile but knew it fell short of the reassurance I wanted to convey. To make up for it, I reached across the table to grab my dad's hand and he covered mine with his own calloused one.

"I'm okay with this. Not with the investigation, _hell_ no. But I think I can live with my scars. At least, for now."

"For now?" my dad asked. I knew he was worried that this was part of the mental trauma people went through after events like this. He still wasn't sure that I was halfway okay from the locker, and I wasn't all that positive myself.

But this time I felt determined. Sure, half of it was the promise of revenge somewhere down the road, but the other half was a true 'stand-when-I-fall' type of perseverance

"For now," I said for his benefit.

His face relaxed and the years melted off his face, and I was thankful for my lie. He squeezed my hand with a tired smile.

 _"Skitter."_

The kitchen was replaced with the sort of darkness that lingered after sleep. My breath hitched as I woke, and instantly the slight warmth I had felt was replaced by an ache that encompassed my body.

 _That was bittersweet._

I had dreamed about the last time my dad outright mentioned my scars. With everything that happened after- the investigations, the ghost of police presence- he stopped bringing it up. Stopped looking at me.

A couple months ago, a part of me had been worried that I'd see disgust in his eyes if he found out I was a villain. Another part was worried his eyes wouldn't change, disgust having entered them long ago.

My face was wet, and I noted with a detached curiosity that they were tears. I wasn't crying much these days. My throat felt tight, eyes dry despite the moisture around them, and it served as a needless reminder of why I hated to.

I reached up to remove my mask, then stopped. I opened my eyes to the barrel of a gun inches away from my face.

Miss Militia crouched before me, gun held loosely in one hand. I was genuinely surprised to see her up and moving, the head injury must not have been as serious as it looked if she were able to hold herself up.

My silk cords were missing. Her clothes had been ripped for makeshift bandages that covered the worst of her cuts, and the dirty rag that had been used to preserve her identity was still in place, managing to look grungier outside of battle. I almost felt bad for her; the thing looked _disgusting_.

I couldn't tell if she was aware of how close her gun was to my face, but once I moved my head she angled it to the side, away from immediate danger.

"Skitter, I'll assume you can hear me?" she asked, and I tested my voice.

"Yes," I croaked.

Her eyes lost some of their frown and she straightened with the help of who I presumed to be Weld. There weren't any other metal men that I knew of, but this guy looked nothing like him. He was eerily similar to Mannequin for his smooth features.

It looked like his body had been airbrushed over, his usually chiseled muscles a flat expanse and his head a crude bearing of a face, blank except for a pair of eyes and a line for a mouth. The nose was slowly being created as he stood there.

It was just as well that his body was blurred. Technically, he was naked.

I took Miss Militia's movement as permission to slowly sit up, mindful of the way my muscles burned. My hand brushed dirt, a few pine needles digging uncomfortably into my palm.

There hadn't been any pine trees in the beach town.

I scattered the factions of bugs that had arranged themselves while I was unconscious and mapped our area as I stumbled to my feet.

We were in a forest.

I didn't need powers to confirm that, not by looking around. Nature was in the air, with it a purity that came without city sounds or pollution. I've never _truly_ camped before, but this was how I always imagined it. If I needed more evidence, the underbrush and pine trees were alive with activity. I sensed the complex caverns of underground spiders, rolling anthills under the brush and a trail of large centipedes making their way down a tree.

It was almost more refreshing to get a sense of the forest through my bugs. It was funny; my first time in a forest like this and the insect population was what caught my interest. A little sad, too.

Wherever we were, it was a long way from the fight.

I picked up Vista and Kid Win not far away, the latter stripped of his armor and currently tinkering with a small kit of tools he probably kept squared away for situations like this. I paused as I registered Clockblocker behind me, far enough to not deem an immediate threat but enough to make his presence matter.

I met Miss Militia's eyes, gauging what her intent could be. She met my gaze evenly and I found myself impressed by the way she managed to draw my attention from the huge gash on her forehead. There was no way a normal human could be injured like she was and walk away without a concussion.

"We've been teleported," I said. Might as well get the obvious out of the way if no one was going to say anything.

She nodded once, grim. "Yes. With no communication or technology." That would explain Kid Win. She continued, "I've already discussed this with the others and they agree. We can't let you roam freely."

I paused at that. Roam freely? I doubted I had the skills to survive out in the woods by myself. There was no point in telling her that, though.

"Oh?"

"With the possibility that you've been corrupted by the Simurgh, and our… state of being right now, it would be beneficial to us all to stick together in a group. Of course, once-"

 _If,_ I supplied.

"-we reach civilization and you've undergone the necessary evaluations to show you're not under the Simurgh's manipulation, as we _all_ will _,_ you will be free to go in the spirit of retaining the truce."

There were several things I could voice to that. With what the PRT had pulled on me less than a week ago, I didn't hold much promise in their word. And though I held great respect for Miss Militia, I knew she was just another cog in the great machine. I was the wrench that was actively trying to screw it up. Taking me into custody for examination was the perfect way to keep me there.

But wasn't that where I had been heading this morning?

Miss Militia shifted her hand on her gun. Her finger wasn't on the trigger, but it was close.

Turning myself in had its own perks. I would've been doing it on my own terms, and the added shock value of having the city warlord turning herself in would've been a nice advantage. With the Simurgh's arrival, I lost all of that.

But my gain?

I thought of Dinah's notes and the way they disappeared. I had cut ties with my team. It wasn't how I planned to do it, but Dinah might have known that.

"Okay," I began slowly, "but one thing. You're planning on returning to the city? Despite being singled out like this?"

The Simurgh created sleeper agents of destruction. We'd been obviously targeted, if our current location was anything to go by. Put two and two together and it was hard to justify taking another step.

Miss Militia nodded once more, gun held steady. "With the amount of time we spent under her influence combined with Dragon and Defiant's added precautions, we should be fine. Just as good as the rest of those who were in the fight, interpret that as you may."

She adjusted the arm holding the gun. _Injury?_

"And this way, we have something to motivate us. Figure out a plan, meet up with the others. This," she waved her other hand, "has brought on a whole new frontier to Endbringer fights."

It came down to what the Simurgh would want us to do. Would she want us to try to live off the land or return to civilization?

Or kill ourselves?

Perhaps this was her plan: to have us not try anything at all, our absence creating horrible repercussions for some other place around the world.

The argument could go back and forth endlessly and we still wouldn't get anywhere. It was borderline insanity to try to account for every possibility and end up with no solution at the end of it. We didn't know what the Simurgh's plan was, so anything we did from here on out could be part of it.

I agreed, albeit hesitatingly. There was really no way to go about it, not alone.

"Alright," I said.

Some of the tension in her shoulders left. "You agree to work with us?"

"Yeah. It's what I would have done anyways," I said. _And it's not like I have much of a choice,_ went unsaid.

She nodded once more, green and black energy morphing a machete at her side. She didn't look past my shoulder, gave nothing away to suggest that there was someone behind me, but Clockblocker's hand lowered and he stepped back, presumably to rejoin us when it wasn't obvious that he'd been lurking around. Not that it wasn't obvious already. Perhaps that was the point?

"Glad to hear it," Miss Militia said. "Let's regroup and start planning the next step." She turned her back to me to lead the way and Weld flanked my side. The message was pretty clear.

At least I had chosen to be a prisoner willingly.

The ground was uneven at first, every step placing another twig or sharp rock beneath my already-sore feet. I stubbed another toe against a rock and grit my teeth, setting a small army of ants before me to map out the terrain. This was already turning out to be a pain, and all I had done so far was stand up and walk.

If Miss Militia and Weld had noticed my bugs collecting, they weren't saying anything.

The forest was its own city, in a way. The trees acted as sky scrapers, their pointed tips acting as hats of business men going to their nine-to-five day jobs. Sun-dappled glades rested in the midst of the tall pines, glowing like stained glass of a steeple. Moss in the richest of greens coated everything like a shag carpet from the 80's. It wasn't the most poetic of descriptions I could offer, but it was what came to mind.

There was the beginning of a crag in the opposite direction from where Miss Militia was leading us. Dense ivy and ferns increased in number with the incline. No sign of civilization anywhere nearby.

 _We've seriously been teleported_.

Reality just slapped me in the face, and I'd say I was taking it pretty well. I think at this point in my life I had learned to roll with the punches, adapt to my surroundings when hesitation often resulted in death. It probably helped that I'd seen a portal open before my eyes not long ago. I still didn't understand exactly _how_ they did it despite Tattletale's best efforts in explaining, but I knew it wasn't impossible.

It made getting out of this seem a little easier in the grand scheme of things.

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. We just woke up not long ago, but judging by Weld's skin, it's been a day," Miss Militia answered. Said boy didn't look offended at being used as an indicator of time.

"The other Wards are okay?" I asked.

"They're alive, if that's what you mean."

I shrugged. "More or less. Anyone hurt bad enough to cause worry?"

Miss Militia paused halfway up the rock she was climbing on to reach a low ridge. "Vista is a little under the weather at the moment. I'd advise that you wouldn't try to use that to your advantage."

The situation was similar enough to the school that I smiled, thankful that my mask hid it. They were so deadest on believing that I had hidden motives, an ulterior plan when I was more at a loss than any of them.

"I wouldn't," I said. "Believe it or not, I'm on your side here."

She didn't reply and I saved my breath to climb after her. Weld followed shortly after.

We reached the small encampment of the Wards not far from where I had been found. Clockblocker had looped around and gotten here before us, resting his back against a tree, arms behind his head like this was his idea of a vacation.

"Sleeping Beauty has awoken," he said. "Excuse me if I don't stand in your presence _, Your Highness_." There it was again, attempted humor in the face of something none of us had an idea on how to deal with.

I ignored him. He snorted.

Kid Win had pieces of his armor laid out before him, systematically checking through its different sections with his small tool kit. I didn't know how much work he'd be able to do with it, but if I've learned anything about tinkers, it was that they were annoyingly versatile. Maybe it would finally play in my favor.

Miss Militia sat by Vista who was curled in a fetal position on the ground. I thought of Tattletale and Dinah and their migraines when they used their power too much. It seemed more of a thinker problem, but when I'd tried listening through my bugs the first time around, it was excruciatingly painful. Even now, trying to see with their eyes gave me a headache if I wasn't careful. Maybe it was the same here?

I settled for leaning against a pine tree, not too positive that my muscles could handle me sitting. The bark was cool from the shade, but I could tell with the spots of sunlight further up that it was a hot day. Mid-afternoon, going by the sun.

"Now that we're all on the same page, I think it'd be a good time to go through what we know," Miss Militia said, keeping her voice low for Vista.

"Tech is still dead," Kid Win said over his armor. "Analogue is down, chips are fried. Something wiped the circuit completely off-board. It would take me days if I had all of my equipment, but with this?" He waved at the tool kit. "Two weeks. At _least._ "

"This is what I know," Clockblocker piped up from his spot by the tree. "Vista was taking us to the ship when there was a flash of light-"

"-Simurgh," Kid Win cut in without looking up.

"-and then capes were dropping all around us," Clockblocker said.

"Hit me as I was finishing my distortion," Vista mumbled in the dirt. "Too many people pushed together." Her arms tightened around her head as her body clenched in pain. Miss Militia went to rub her back but the girl shied away from the hand, groaning.

"Seemed to me like the Simurgh wanted every one of us dead," Clockblocker said.

"The Simurgh relies on survivors to carry out the true damage," Miss Militia pointed out. "It may have looked that way, but she would have known who was likely to survive and who would fall."

"So we can pretty much say that she wanted us to live," Clockblocker stated matter-of-fact. I got the sense that his previous statement was a set-up just so he could get the response he wanted. By the look on Miss Militia's face, I'd say she thought the same.

"Perhaps. We still don't know if anyone else was teleported as well," she replied.

"Actually," I started, drawing everyone's attention to me, "I saw the other side of the portal when we fell through. I don't think anyone else is here."

Miss Militia frowned.

Clockblocker shifted in his spot, kicking one leg out. "Then where were all the citizens? You honestly don't think the Simurgh could've teleported them as well?"

I stopped at that.

Miss Militia rose a hand. "I won't sugar-coat our situation. The only other Simurgh-teleportation we have on record are the Travelers, and it doesn't bear repeating what came of that. I'm not saying that will happen this time, but I can't say it won't. We need to take precautions."

"What were they like?" Weld asked. The question was garbled, spoken without a tongue by the sound of it. He turned his head and I realized belatedly that the question was for me.

What _were_ the Travelers like? "They were… sad, I guess. I don't know the full story, but from what I gathered from when we were allies and what Tattletale said, they used to be friends. Trickster thought they still were up until the very end." I paused, remembering the night I killed Coil and Ballistic left the group. "Sundancer described her experience on the team as intense, violent and lonely. I can't say she was wrong, knowing now what they were hiding."

The rest were silent. I could hear the gears turning in Miss Militia's mind as she chewed on the new information. If we were using the Travelers as examples of what _not_ to do, we needed to erase dissention amongst the ranks.

Except that we might be off to a worse start than the Travelers had been. They had the advantage of being friends at some point. Us? Maybe Clockblocker and Kid Win, Vista thrown in there as well. Miss Militia practically commanded respect, the poster cool-headed adult that excelled at reigning all sorts of people in. Weld was the same, but things were complicated now.

Even if my presence didn't screw things up, there was still Weld's occupation as a Case 53. He hadn't shown any hard feeling towards the PRT except for leaving to build his own group, but there was no way this wasn't at least _somewhat_ awkward for him.

Add to that Clockblocker's antagonistic approach towards me and the fact that none of our tech was working, and we had our work cut out for us.

"Alright, I've made up my mind," Miss Militia said, determination plastered on her face. "As of now, we're a team. I was going to lay that out as a ground rule no matter what we'd say in this meeting. A good team works their problems out with communication, _not_ fighting. So if any of you start throwing punches or think it's funny to harass each other, I'll be there to give you a talking to. And then some." I got the impression that last bit was directed towards me and Clockblocker.

She continued, "We're going to have to work _together_ to get out of this mess. I'll be the acting leader," she glanced at me as if I'd try and fight her for it. I nodded once to her, deferring power. Seemingly satisfied with my response, she added, "Weld is second in command. With that settled, our next state of business is finding water. We're not going to last long without it."

She rose from her spot slowly, and I knew by the way her legs twitched that she was in more pain than she let on. "Weld, can you help Vista?"

Weld nodded and walked forward.

"No," Vista muttered. "Nobody touch me. Makes it worse."

She gathered herself up with trembling arms, and walked a few steps hunched over like a woman seventy years older. Weld stood nearby waiting for her to fall, arms outstretched and ready. When it became obvious she wouldn't topple over, he let them drop to his sides and followed close behind.

Miss Militia's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent when Vista reached her side with dogged determination. After scanning the area one last time, Miss Militia seemingly chose a random pair of trees and marked them with her machete, passing by with Vista not far behind.

I pushed off of the tree I was leaning on and trailed after them, scouting the area for any wetland bugs I might have missed the first time around. None.

My range was still a solid six and a half blocks and reaching seven, which I grudgingly admitted made sense. It wouldn't be a stretch to say I was feeling trapped. It had become a sort of default setting the past weeks, enough that I hadn't really noticed it beyond appreciating the edge it gave me in a fight.

Outside of a fight?

I was soaked in every bit of emotional and physical fatigue I had experienced over the last week. Fear about the future of my territory and how my team was going to handle my disappearance. Anger was prevalent, too.

I felt drained as Clockblocker proceeded past me. _This is a mission,_ I reminded myself. _Focus on what's at hand._

We slowed to a halt so Kid Win had a chance to catch up in his armor, then continued at a slight decline down the forest ground. I noted that several pieces were missing, probably to make it easier for him to travel in without it powered up. I couldn't see his eyes but his mouth was pressed in a solid line. I'd be pretty upset if I had to leave months' worth of work behind, too.

Clockblocker and Kid Win began a hushed conversation in front of me, and without second thought I had a spider grapple from an overhanging branch to behind Kid Win's ear, right in the crack of where Dragon's purple goop had crusted over.

"…do you think?" Kid Win was asking.

"Dunno. With her, everything's a shot in the dark. At the end of the day does it really matter?" Clockblocker answered.

Kid Win shot him an incredulous look. "I'd say so."

"…ending in two years," Clockblocker shrugged. "Might as well stop worrying and live in the moment."

Weld tapped on my shoulder and looked pointedly towards Kid Win. He saw the spider. _Damn._ I had it scurry away and he nodded, satisfied. I pursed my lips; at least he hadn't mentioned it to the entire group. That would've planted more tension in our ranks, and that was the last thing we needed.

I resolutely faced forward and focused on finding any animals in the area. They could determine our location based on the species and help us-

I stumbled in my gait as I realized he touched my _bare skin._

Recovering on the dot, I rotated my back armor to my front. It jutted off my chest a little skewed, but it provided some coverage. The rest of the armor that survived remained tied in place, though I already had an idea of how I was going to adjust them once I got the chance.

How had I gone that long without noticing? No matter how much I'd faced since getting these scars, I was far from touching the _edge_ of walking brazenly down the streets in nothing but a thin tank and bike leggings. The closest I'd gotten to that were high-necked cropped sleeve shirts, and even those were pushing my already-low comfort level.

It was one thing to show my scars to my closest friends, but to the rest of the world? The thought was almost as ludicrous as Hookwolf joining the Protectorate. It just wasn't an option. To show them to _these_ guys? I'd spent the last three months fighting, abusing and humiliating them. I was a villain in their eyes, for reasons _I_ had trouble justifying.

Kid Win had seen the tips of them. If Miss Militia and Weld had been staring at me longer than it took to wake me up, there was a good chance they had seen them as well.

I looked past where my chin kissed my collarbone. A few inches lower were the teeth of my two scars hidden by chitin.

I'd be surprised if they didn't notice. Everyone who so much as _glanced_ at me would have seen them sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs. It was more along the lines of whether they knew the extent of the damage.

At least they hadn't seen my back. My undershirt rose high in the back, making up for the low cut in front, and the color was nice as well. Black, discreet and ambiguous in what lay behind it.

As long as I didn't stretch my arms or tighten the cloth too much against my chest, they would hopefully think I was just severely flat-chested and wore ill-fitting armor to make up for it. The thought grated, but it was better than the alternative.

Before me, Clockblocker clapped Kid Win on the back, marking the end of the conversation. The two walked in silence, and no one tried to fill it.

* * *

That was how we walked for the next few hours. There was an unspoken agreement to keep our mouths shut and ears peeled for sound, conserving our breath and spit, but despite the relatively slow pace I was thoroughly winded as the sun began to set.

Sweat had begun to pool down my back and front, stinging my chest where I had skid across the ground. My scalp was unbearably itchy beneath the purple crust that still coated my head. I gave up trying to scratch it away after it wouldn't budge an inch, leaving me to wonder why I tried in the first place. If Weld's was able to survive a blast that was enough to melt metal, I didn't think I'd be able to inflict any damage with my fingernails.

The dried blood and soot that covered me was flaking off and clumping at the same time, and I almost longed for a bath more than a drink of water. But the way my throat felt like a pair of hands were passionately choking it placed that drink of water pretty high up on the list.

The rest of my team wasn't faring much better.

Kid Win had to drop more of his armor as the hours ticked on, and his frown was becoming a permanent fixture beneath his visor. Cradled in Weld's arms was Vista. She'd dropped after the second hour of our trek, her muscles twitching her otherwise limp body. As if she felt my stare, she turned her face into Weld's bare metal chest with a muffled whine.

I really pitied the poor kid.

Weld, though, I envied. I wouldn't trade my powers for his metal skin because of the drawbacks, but his endurance and lack of need for human basics was something I could go for at the moment. _Something we all could go for_ , I thought.

My bugs weren't giving me anything. I had a span of little under half a mile and there was no sign of water despite having walked for hours.

And it was only going to get worse the longer we walked. It was sunset, and the forest had darkened prematurely from the coverage of the tree tops. Soon it would be darker than night, no light from the city or moon to illuminate our path. For me, it might not be that big of a problem, but I had everyone else's limitations to think of. A stray root could knock them to their feet and cost strength they didn't have.

I thought I was hallucinating when Miss Militia dropped to the ground. I stumbled once I realized my eyes weren't playing tricks on me, and it took everything I had not to fall over. Clockblocker hunched over her, not bothering to attempt to crouch down. He stepped to the side when Weld reached them and said nothing as he lifted her over his shoulders, shifting Vista to one arm.

Logic said to keep moving forward, but Miss Militia was our guide. I had no doubt that she knew her way around the wild unless those fatigues were just for show, and without her judgement we had no idea if we were heading in the right direction.

"Skitter, you take lead," Weld said without hesitation. His tongue had grown back over the hours, his face a little more normal. His _lower_ area was like a male mannequin's. The muscles were there, but his groin was smoothed over flawlessly.

I didn't nod for fear of throwing myself off balance, but I did walk to the front of the group and head off our slow trek. It was disorientating to look at the forest without seeing everyone's backs. _Forwards._ If Miss Militia thought it was the right direction, I wouldn't dispute it.

I put one foot in front of the other. Each movement jostled my head where a migraine was in the middle of hitting me with a pickaxe. _One foot, two foot,_ I thought, keeping the rhyme on a loop as another hour passed.

I wasn't even sure that it _had_ been an hour. It could have only been a few minutes, and the thought was agonizing. My bugs still relayed the same senses as they'd been all day. Branches, trees. Mossy rocks and soil.

 _Where the hell are all the animals?_

There had been a few mice and rabbits, but not enough to determine if water was anywhere near. We needed something more substantial, like a fox or deer, even a _bear_ would-

A new insect entered my range.

"Mosquito." The word crawled out of my dried lips and died without flourish. No one answered me. _I_ could barely understand what I'd said.

Luckily, Weld heard me. "What was that?"

I gathered together a swarm. _"Mosquitos about half a mile away. Wherever they are, water is bound to be nearby."_

That got everyone's attention. Weld smiled. "Lead the way," he said.

I did. Our pace was still agonizingly slow, most of it due to our own exhaustion but also to compensate for the low light. But it didn't matter in the end. I guess it should have been more dramatic, perhaps another obstacle thrown in our way before we managed to reach the stream, but the rest of our trek was relatively calm besides our labored breaths at the end of it.

I couldn't really see the stream except for the few glints of light that managed to make its way through the branches when a breeze passed by, but I could tell it wasn't nearly strong enough a current to pull us away if we fell in. Worst case scenario would be passing out and drowning, which was unlikely with Weld nearby.

Weld gently laid Vista and Miss Militia down by the bank as Kid Win dropped to his knees, scooping handfuls of water into his mouth.

"Hey, take it slow at first-" Weld began to admonish, but the tinker didn't look to be listening anytime soon. I went to remove my own mask but my fingers weren't working for me, my coordination off. I tried to slip my fingers underneath the top part of the mask and found the problem: the purple gunk had welded itself to my hair.

I dunked my face underwater. It was shockingly freezing, rocketing past "refreshingly cool" and straight towards ice water. I let the water flow around me, sipping what managed to slip past my mask. It wasn't enough, and I had to rise for air. I coughed, catching my breath before repeating the process. I tried rubbing away the shell as I submerged, but I couldn't tell if it was making a difference.

Giving up on handling it myself, I turned to see if Weld needed help with the others and paused when I saw the pairs of eyes on me.

"Skitter," Weld said. "Would you mind looking away?" Clockblocker was still hunched over the stream, likely wanting to tear off his helmet at any second. I was a little surprised he hadn't already.

 _Secret identities_. I snorted and turned away obediently, laying half my face in the stream to sip and test the water's erosion against the helmet. It was cold, but I'd rather that then having crusty hair. Didn't he ask me what it was like to have a secret identity a few weeks back? I remembered my answer. _Overrated._ And it was.

To have it hold back capes from drinking water, from living, _surviving,_ was ridiculous. But it was also ironic, since that same thing kept capes alive when they were out of costume. New Wave's Fleur was proof of that. I would probably be proof of that too, somewhere down the line.

 _If I make it that far,_ I added, listening to Clockblocker wrestle off his helmet and slurp up the water with the same gusto as Kid Win.

A mosquito landed lazily on my arm at my request. I had others join it till I was all but covered in them. The aches and pains of my body were sent to the back of my mind as I focused on my swarm's nerve impulses and sensory neurons, their natural instincts smothered by the intoxicating draw of my own power. I felt my mind wind down like muscles after a warm cup of tea.

I was pulled out of my cloud when Weld approached. Behind him I sensed Vista and Miss Militia by the stream, drinking slowly from the hands of Clockblocker and Kid Win.

"Would you like some help with that?" he asked, gesturing towards my mask.

"That'd be great," I replied honestly, a bit surprised.

His finger transformed into a scalpel and I tried not to jerk away when he brought it to the edge of where my hairline would be. It was unpleasantly reminiscent of when Bonesaw had a go at my face.

He traced lines in the purple gunk, popping them out by sections. He took handfuls of where the helmet had grown tumor-like knobs and crushed them. I think I lost some clumps of hair, but I couldn't be sure in the dark. Either way, I was finally free.

The last piece of the helmet was carved away and landed with a _plop_ in the stream. "Thanks," I said. He nodded and returned back to the group, presumably to give the others the same treatment.

The proverbial line in the sand was as clear as the Grand Canyon. I ripped off my mask and dunked my face into the stream, rubbing furiously at my scalp and gulping down mouthfuls of water. I wouldn't feel completely human until I could wash myself off completely, but though the darkness provided some cover, I wasn't about to go for a swim. Besides, it was already showing to be a chilly night, and I didn't want to make it worse for myself by splashing in the stream.

It was too dangerous to build a fire. Disregarding the possibility of a forest fire in case we screwed up majorly, there was the chance that there was something in the woods that would make us regret building one if it found us. A wild animal, even something as large as a bear wouldn't hold much threat to us as a team, but if it was some _one?_ We had no idea what was out here, so there was no point in risking it.

I tried to imagine us dogpiling together for warmth. Hypothermia was more likely for me.

 _Looks like I'll finally get to test how effective a bug blanket is against the cold,_ I thought. I dragged myself up the bank till the risk of rolling into the water was sufficiently low.

The situation could be worse. I curled in on myself and hugged my knees to my chest, the blanket of tens of thousands of tiny insect bodies covering my own. We had water, for one. Forests didn't lack for a food source, and if we got desperate we could try out the feeding program I had been thinking of designing for my people.

I closed my eyes. _It could be worse._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So now we're getting somewhere. I had a whole bunch planned for what I was going to write here, but I've forgotten it all. SO:**

 **I'm super psyched to hear your guys' thoughts on this. I already have the next chapter mostly written out, I'm just smoothing things over.**

 **You guys get the fun chance to see my horrible knowledge of nature and camping and survival skills. Yay.**

 **We'll be seeing more of Taylor's memories and how some events might've been skewed or altered in some ways. Nothing extreme, just a different perspective. I will say that while Taylor's feelings are real and her view is the main one, it doesn't always mean it's right. So some character responses/reactions to her scars may be viewed in the wrong light by her. Or not.**

 **Character interactions are immensely important to me, but they're also my main source of pain, so let me know if anyone seems OOC or if the dialogue doesn't seem right. I adore all of Wildbow's creations, but they're ridiculously hard to write. Serious! I don't think I've ever second-guessed myself as much as I've been doing as I write this. It's ridonculous.**

 **Anyway.**

 **Let me know what you think!**


	5. Cumulus 1-5

**A/N:**

 **Yes, this is an early update. (Early by one day, but let's not be pedantic.) I became a little inspired when one of my favorite fics was updated this week, and as I was writing the next chapter I couldn't help but give you an early Easter present. Or late Spring equinox.**

 **Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews Drako90451, Doctor Mercurious** , **firemaster101, ShadowCub and moon so bright! Whether they be compliments or questions, pure, spitting hatred or a cluster of typos, they seriously brighten up my day like you wouldn't believe. It truly means a lot. (:**

 **Drako90451: Thank you for your lovely words! And no, I'm the same way. I think part of the reason why I like Worm so much is because of Taylor's struggles. Her cynicism is endearing, which makes it more fun to mess around with her. Horrible people unite!**

* * *

The first thought that came to mind upon waking up was, _I need a bath._

'Crusty' was an adequate word for describing how I felt. I hadn't washed myself off last night, and I was regretting it now. I scattered the bugs that blanketed me, relishing in the soft light of dawn that unfolded as my swarm dispersed.

I sat up and stretched carefully, wincing at the pop of my joints. I had slept with my armor on, which I'd never done before. Worse, it was on the hard ground with poorly set armor to boot.

Short cords of silk, about three inches in length crumpled from my body. It was as if someone had been making a quilt and decided to use me as a table for their patches.

My passenger? It was helpful, if a bit useless in their current form.

I picked up the cords and set to weaving them together with my spiders to use as bandages later. _Or_ , I looked at my feet, _extra padding for my makeshift shoes_.

My range picked up nothing that rang the alarm bells, so I shifted my swarm to the back of my mind and drank in what I could actually see.

Vista was wedged between Clockblocker and Kid Win, her head supported on the former's shoulder. They looked asleep, and a check with a few bugs confirmed the slow, even rise and fall of their chests. The bulk of Kid Win's armor didn't budge, but I didn't want to risk waking him by having bugs crawl over his face to check his breathing. I had a funny feeling he wouldn't be thrilled.

Miss Militia and Weld sat further back towards the tree line, my movement drawing their attention like flies to a light bulb.

I rolled a crick out of my neck and stood, making my way down to the stream to dunk my head in and let the current work through my hair. It was a tangled wreck, and I combed my fingers through it as best I could and until I gave up and let it fall half-knotted across my shoulders. There wasn't much I could do about bathing, unless I reduced myself to splashing around in a shallow stream while Miss Militia and Weld watched.

I'd been wrong last night. Even if the stream had the current of a rapid, I'd doubt it could sweep any of us away. It was only as deep as my forearm, if that, which made me question the purity of it. But what did I know of clean water? It looked clear enough to me, and the nearby birds seemed to agree.

I sat back on my haunches and replaced my mask, staring down at my reflection. The top layer had been scanned away by the Simurgh's gun, and now the mandibles and forehead piece were worn halfway. It looked like my face was pulling inwards, and I couldn't decide if the effect made it look creepier than usual or just plain ugly. I took it off.

Miss Militia and Weld watched me.

Dragonflies delivered me the single silk cord made from what my spiders had crafted, and I attached it to my mask like I would a key to a lanyard. From there I loosely wrapped the cord around my waist. It wasn't thick enough to qualify as a sash, but the silk would hold. If I needed to, I could easily withdraw my mask from my waist where it hung from my side, but for now I would keep it off.

Though my eyesight was bad, I could see well enough with my swarm. My time spent blind gave me more than enough to work with.

I stood. This was my olive branch. They'd already seen my face, if not in person then on TV, but hopefully they'd recognize this for what it was.

I approached Miss Militia and Weld. I took in the pale pallor of Miss Militia's skin and gathered she wasn't in the best form. I could count on my hand the amount of times I'd seen her give any sign of discomfort, and that was counting the time Regent had her vomiting on her hands and knees.

That wasn't the best thing to remember right now. "What's our plan for the day?" I asked, mildly irritated at myself.

"Recuperating," Miss Militia answered. Despite her appearance, her voice came out strong. "We need time to lick our wounds, gather our breath from yesterday's travel. I'd like us to make our way further down the stream to where I believe it'll join a river, but that depends mostly on the others once they awaken." She took in my appearance. "Are you up for traveling?"

"Sure," I said. _Most of the blood is yours,_ I almost added, then thought better of it. "Did you have anything in mind for food or a fire?"

"A fire would be fine, I think. As for food, we can live off the land. I'll show you all as the day progresses." It was the sort of sentence that would usually be followed by a smile, but her face remained tight.

Further in the woods, my bugs found their catch and set to reeling it in. Now that our water problem had been taken care of, the knot in my stomach was making itself painfully aware. I rubbed my hands without any real need to and scouted for dry wood.

It was summer here, of that I was certain. I didn't know what country, but if I had to guess I'd say we were still in North America. I felt like I had seen the scenery before and recognized it now as being from those cheesy American postcards and T-shirts. I'd say we were a right turn from nowhere.

I gathered a good amount of old branches to get a fire started and headed back just as my bugs came into view. Two rabbits, noses clogged with ants. I sent them over to Miss Militia who accepted them with a small amount of surprise. I couldn't help there; summer camp taught me how to build a fire, not flay a rabbit.

I stacked my wood far enough away from the trees and grabbed dry leaves for kindling. I arranged the logs as I remembered we were taught, then stopped. What would I use for a spark? I didn't see any flint rocks laying around.

Weld approached from behind me. "Need a hand?" he asked.

He knelt down before I could answer and began to rub his hands together furiously. Sparks jumped from between his fingers at the friction. Surprised, I leaned back. My little stack of wood caught fire and he stopped, looking back at me with a tight smile.

Only when he left did I realize he made a joke. _Olive branch,_ I thought.

Clockblocker stirred awake and roused Vista in the process. He shushed her as she mumbled, and maneuvered her over to Kid Win's side before rising in the same fashion as I did: brutally slow and stiff.

After returning from the stream where he had checked twice that I wasn't looking, he said, "Wow. I don't know whether to be hungry or nauseous."

I felt distinctly offended before I saw that Miss Militia was in the middle of sliding the rabbits' skin off. She was halfway towards its legs when she rose a brow at him.

"Decide quick. I need you to get me a stick I can impale these on."

I couldn't tell if he recoiled at that, but he nodded and headed towards the tree line. He paused in his stride when he saw me. Unsure, I rose a hand in greeting. He nodded once, short, and disappeared into the trees.

Not knowing what to make of that, I added more branches onto my small fire and watched with satisfaction as the flames greedily ate them up. _I built a fire._ I may be from the city, but I wasn't completely helpless in the woods.

Kid Win and Vista stirred awake by the time the rabbits were cooking over the fire, Miss Militia turning them slowly on a large stick. Vista looked… about the same as yesterday, minus when she collapsed. Not dehydrated-exhausted, just exhausted. It was an improvement.

I grabbed my portion and took my place away from the group without having to be asked, a burning rabbit leg clutched in my bare hand. I was playing an impromptu game of 'hot potato' when Weld joined me on the ground.

The question must've been written on my face, for he said, "I don't have a secret identity to protect. I think I've mentioned that before?"

I found it hard to believe that was all he was here for, but shrugged off my curiosity. "That makes two of us."

"It's hard," he said. I nodded in agreement.

It was a little awkward eating around someone who wasn't, but my hunger outweighed everything else and I hastily embarked on devouring my portion. Weld didn't look bothered. He was probably used to it.

Those were the drawbacks that I had thought about yesterday. No taste, no smell, no touch. I wondered what he did in his free time. Not that the only things to do in life were eating burgers or smelling flowers, but could he even die? He survived being melted to a puddle, so it was hard to believe anything could bring him down; I doubted he aged. How often did he think about that, outliving his friends and team?

God, that got depressing.

I realized I had been staring into space with the rabbit leg clutched in my fist, grease sliding down my wrist. I didn't know what Weld expected when he walked over here, but I wasn't about to add to the bad vibe that already accompanied me. I hastily tore off the last string of meat and swallowed it whole.

"It looks like it'll be a warm day," I said after an audible gulp, grasping for a safe topic.

His focus shot to me from where it had settled on the group. My bugs picked up the low tones of Miss Militia as she muttered to the Wards.

"…take breaks. A river could either lead us to the ocean or other people, and we're heading down…" she was saying.

Before me, Weld said, "Yeah. But luckily we have water now, so we're better off than we were yesterday."

"Yeah, true," I replied. _What to say?_ "Where do you think we are?"

Weld took a needless breath. "I'm not sure. Wherever we are, it's not tropical." The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have qualified as the world's tiniest, most pitiful smile. Better than I could've produced. "But I was never one for geography," he said.

"I was thinking North America, still. I recognize most of the insect population. Maybe Europe- a good part of our bugs are actually foreign, and if my memory of their forests is accurate, this could fit the bill."

Weld shrugged. "Could be. We'll know more as we walk around."

"Yep," I said. Silence.

This conversation was ridiculously hard. Every topic that came to mind was either dangerous territory or just plain uncomfortable. _How're the Irregulars working out, assuming they're still alive? Are you mad that I killed your former boss? How badly do you want revenge on Cauldron?_

It would be easier if we were complete strangers. I knew next to nothing about him barring what was on the internet, yet I'd fought against and alongside him numerous times. He'd been the deciding factor in situations that were life-or-death for me, and I for his teammates. But at the end of the day, I was a villain and he was a hero. We had a history that already painted each other's characters, and being stuck out in the woods together wasn't going to change that.

Except-

"Have you ever been to Europe?" I asked.

-being stuck out in the woods and _trying_ to change that could work.

I had been ready to turn myself in two days ago to give _our_ side, humanity, a fighting chance against the true monsters: The Endbringers and Slaughter House Nine. Obviously, that plan didn't work out.

But now I was given a new chance, an opportunity to show the heroes that I was as much a person as they were. I'd been trying to tell them the past months that it wasn't as black and white as the hero side liked to believe, after all.

And they _had_ to believe that a little now, if they hadn't before. Else they wouldn't hold such high standards for me, a villain.

I already took off my mask, literally. I was willing to extend another olive branch.

Weld looked taken aback. "No, have you?"

"I haven't, but I've always wanted to," I answered. I had more than enough money to travel there now, but the chances of me traveling abroad legally were laughably non-existent. "I've heard Norway is beautiful."

I might've figured out my gameplay, but I was woefully out of my element here. Small talk was only used with Bitch because that was all that worked with her. It didn't matter that I was poor at it. Here, though, it was painfully obvious to the both of us that I sucked at it.

His eyes turned sharp, no doubt inspecting me for a hidden motive. I _did_ have one, per say, but it was probably better than anything he was thinking of.

I could see the moment he made up his mind. "I'm more of a city kind of guy," he said.

"So you'd be more into London or Paris?"

He shrugged. "I never had the time to think about travel. After this, maybe."

 _After_ we get out of this forest and figure out if we're crazy, fix this mess with the Endbringers and Cauldron. After we stop Jack Slash from ending the world.

Suddenly, my small talk sounded a whole lot worse. _Should've kept the mask on, fuck olive branches._

"What about you?" Weld asked. I blinked and he elaborated, "After this, what are you going to do?"

I paused, swallowing a lump that wasn't there before. Miss Militia chose that moment to appear.

"The others are ready to move out," she said. I didn't miss the look she sent Weld after I turned away.

I washed off the rabbit bone and my hands, digging a few holes in the stream bed to filter the water before drinking. There was enough room in my utility compartment to stash the bone for future use. I couldn't say what that use would _be,_ only that it felt like the smart thing to do. Better to be prepared than not.

Miss Militia headed off our group as we carved a path by the stream, I bringing up the rear. Weld wasn't glued to my side as he was before, which could've meant any number of things. Kid Win walked in his place, and I couldn't help but make the calculations to take him down if he turned hostile.

We hadn't had much one-on-one interaction aside from the fight at Arcadia, if he against my swarm clone counted. Judging by his body language, I honestly couldn't say if there were any hard feelings. But I hadn't gathered any personal hostility from Clockblocker until he waved it like a banner.

A drop of sweat from his chin splattered onto the red metal of his armor. Though we had been tossed and dragged not two days ago by the Simurgh, there was hardly a scratch on the surface.

Now that I was actually paying attention, I noticed that he had more or less reclaimed all of the armor he had to drop yesterday. When would he have found the time to do that? And _how?_ It wasn't as if any of us were in the right state to travel, except for Weld. But from what I gleamed of his power, he would've absorbed the metal, so that ruled him out. Unless my knowledge of my enemy's powers wasn't as vast as I liked to believe.

I recognized my mistake a second too late. _Former enemies, for now,_ I corrected, then shot another appraisal towards Kid Win.

I didn't like that I couldn't connect the dots here. I prided myself on being able to find answers, and the fact that I hadn't woken up while a part of our group gallivanted off stirred enough unease in my stomach that I had to swallow to make sure I wasn't going to vomit. My stomach was already shaken as it was.

And that, there, was _another_ concern to add to the list of our growing problems. Cooked rabbit would only do so much underneath this type of sun and travel. There were more nutrients that we needed besides protein.

Problem was, I had next to nothing in wildlife survival skills. I could hunt and locate water well enough, but there was a difference between picking off a few animals and living off the land. Miss Militia dressed like she fit the bill, but that in no way made her Bear Grylls. I sighed, drawing a guarded look from Kid Win. I guessed this was as best a time as any to learn.

Morning turned to afternoon, and evening swiftly followed on the backs of hounds. The forest had taken a surprisingly rough path as we trailed along the edge of a sharp slope, and I couldn't see any sign of progress from our teensy stream.

While Miss Militia informed us that our best bet at finding civilization would be to travel downwards, we were taking the slow and safe way.

The bottom of the slope was easily thirty feet down with pine trees crowding the drop, and sharp boulders and cascading ferns lodged in the dirt like stair steps. The ground was barely detectable past the sheer amount of foliage. Any one of us could've scaled it on a good day, but a look at our state deemed the fast way down a bad idea.

And with our light slowly dwindling, we were going to have to stop soon. My throat was dry at having said nothing all day, Kid Win providing no form of conversation and the others too caught up in their own for me to interject.

They weren't talking all that often, either. Aside from a few muffled exchanges between Clockblocker and Miss Militia, the urge to talk was sapped out of the group. There was tension, a restless energy that buzzed on the outskirts of everyone's minds, and I think we were all hesitant in doing something that would cause the dam to break.

Miss Militia slowed to a stop and turned to face us. The warm light of the sunset filtered through the leaves above and left a splotch of light across the bridge of her nose.

"Let's-" she began, and the ground slipped away.

It was as if God had taken a broom and swatted me down the hill along with the dirt, shrubs and rocks. There was no time to scream, no warning except for the awful clap of breaking earth. I had enough mind to cover my head, though it did nothing for my arms and legs as I tumbled down. The entire ordeal had to have only lasted seconds, but it felt like an eternity had passed before I skidded to a stop, rocks trickling a few feet after me, marking the air with their clunking sounds before stopping, too.

It was quiet.

I had squeezed my eyes shut when I slipped, and I opened them hesitantly, half-expecting a bucket of dirt to be poured over my face. Instead, darkness reared its ugly head. For a moment I panicked, thinking that I had hit my head on the way down and managed to blind myself again. But as my eyesight adjusted, the darkness evolved into a tangle of branches and shrubs. Only a sliver of gold peeked through the cover.

"Skitter?" Miss Militia's voice called out, far enough that she had to have been spared from the fall. My pained grimace transitioned into a frown as my bugs took everyone else into account. Weld stood beside her, Vista and Clockblocker clutched in both of his hands. Even Kid Win had managed to steer clear of the slip, Clockblocker gripping the back of his armor, freezing him in place.

Of course, no one had thought to grab me.

" _I'm fine,"_ I replied, speaking through a gathering swarm. To their credit, no one jumped at the sound. _At least, I think I am_ , I added as an afterthought. My skin stung, and my body had an all-over ache that was becoming unfortunately familiar.

But a quick account of my limbs, wiggling my toes and fingers experimentally, judged that I was alright. Scraped, bruised, but intact. My armor had even stayed in place, and my lanyard-band had proven to be as strong as my other silk.

I grunted as I got to my feet, and took a moment for my eyes to adjust and the world to stop spinning.

The light was pretty dismal down here. The tangle of branches above all but tied away the sunlight; except for a sliver of gold that peeped through the mess, it was black as night. The sun was bound to set in an hour or two anyway, and I didn't really need to see. Still, I donned my mask and blinked in response to the suddenly clear, albeit dark view of the area.

Ahead, a mound of loose dirt was spread at the base of the slope. A landslide? There wasn't anyone in my range to suggest it was the workings of a cape. I steered clear, backing up despite myself.

My ears picked up the mumble of water, and my first impression was that it was the stream above. But…

This was too close. I turned towards the sound, and the stream was near enough that I could probably see it in the daylight despite the sheer mass of brush down here. By tracing the edges of it with mosquitos, I followed it as long as my range went.

It was easily twice as wide as the small stream above, and my mouth widened into a smile that only grew as I measured its depth with water beetles and worms below ground. It had to reach my knees, at least.

"We… leave her down there?" Vista. I couldn't read her tone, but she was the only one with a voice as high as hers. My stomach dropped.

"It's too dangerous to go down now. It's late, dark and we're exhausted," Miss Militia said. "We can get her in the morning."

"I could scale down it," Weld suggested, but Miss Militia's head shook in reply.

"The ground is unstable, and we can hardly see. No, we'll wait."

"You don't think she'll try to escape?" Clockblocker asked. He shuffled on his feet, restless.

Again, Miss Militia shook her head. "She's tricky, but smart. She knows she can't survive on her own out here."

A bit of spite filled me at that. My bugs on Kid Win popped back into existence and picked up the strangled gasp that left his lips as he stumbled back from the edge. "What happened?" he asked, swiveling to the others.

"The bug got stuck under the rug," Clockblocker said.

"Skitter fell down the slope," Miss Militia clarified. "And we're getting her in the morning."

I was beginning to wonder when she'd say that to my 'face' when she spoke normally to my swarm, "What's your position?"

I debated against telling her before deciding that would be stupid. _"Lots of trees down here,"_ I replied. _"Another stream, too."_

Miss Militia paused, and her weapon shifted several times before settling on something I couldn't make out. "Alright, stay where you are. We'll come for you at sunrise."

" _Right."_ They walked from the edge. Kid Win lingered the longest, chancing a lean to get a better look at the wreckage before joining the others.

Damn them. I felt tempted to strike out on my own, gain enough headway tonight that I could try and outpace them so they wouldn't find me tomorrow. I caught my own food, I could figure out how to create my own spark, I-

Disastrous thoughts. That was the last thing I should do, and certainly not what I wanted or what we _needed._ I breathed deep, relishing in the fresh air that billowed into my lungs before spilling out of my lips and skimming past my face with a feathered touch.

I still had something to prove, and a lot of things to protect. _Heroes and villains,_ I thought. _Good and evil._

I was tired.

Above, Miss Militia sat with her knees loosely bent in front of her, resting her elbows on her knees and her back against a tree trunk. A fire must have been deemed too dangerous, for no one went to collect fire wood.

Vista settled on the ground not far away, keeping her space. Her face was tilted down, away from sight. She was covered with sweat, which hinted at how much longer she'd be able to keep pace on her own.

"How… doing?" Clockblocker said, almost too low for me to pick it up. He lowered himself beside her and she shifted.

"Good," she replied.

I drank several mouthfuls of water from the stream, wishing not for the first time that I could dunk my whole body into it. But I couldn't afford to become ill, and drenching myself in water at _night_ with no towel or change of clothes would do that to a person. I fantasized a hot shower instead, fatigue melting off my bones as the scalding water poured down. It wasn't enough to tide me over.

Above, Clockblocker offered to help her over to their stream above so she could wash off, but she declined. I couldn't read their voices, but from the way he tensed I figured her tone wasn't pleasant. A gust of air left the front of his mask, a sigh. "We'll reach civilization soon. Miss Militia said so," he said. Hard to say he believed that, if his words to Kid Win the day before were any indication.

"Sure," Vista replied. I frowned, and Miss Militia interrupted with something I couldn't make out. Clockblocker left, moving to sit in the middle of the clearing they were in. I envied him; plush moss was underfoot, a world different from the knotted roots in my bundle of trees.

Kid Win sat apart from the group, much like how I'd seen him do the other times we'd stopped for breaks. His tool kit was out and being put to full use, various parts of his armor laid out. I had no idea how his progress was coming along, and I wasn't sure how to tell. It all looked the same to me as before, so I guessed it wasn't _worse._

I settled in my own nook underneath a bush, a sort of leafy growth from the base of a pine tree. Spiders bloomed out of their hidey holes and webs at my bid. The patches of silk from this morning turned out to help, but I wanted them to create something I could actually use off the bat instead of having to perform altercations. They gathered in formation and began to weave, and I closed my eyes.

The only one who hadn't moved since they left the ridge was Weld. He stood guard outside of their clearing, back abnormally straight. His face pointed east.

It was disconcerting how still he was; if I didn't know better I'd say someone had left a statue in the middle of the woods. I leaned back and folded my hands behind my head, and scar tissue dragged across my ribs and spine, stretched along with my armor and arms.

 _Human and monster,_ I mused. With that, I fell asleep.

* * *

Morning was an interesting affair.

I woke up at the sensation of my silk strings breaking, my sentry spiders draping along their lines like clothes in the wind. I shot up and nearly faltered, thinking it was an enemy before my mind caught up with the present.

Once it did, I went twice as fast leaving my bush. Part of the branches left with me in my hurry, but there was no way I'd be caught curled beneath the shrubbery, looking as tired and small as I felt. I walked into view of the slope, rolling a crick out of my neck just as Weld finished his descent.

His legs were sharpened into points as long as he was tall, but he still sunk knee-deep with each step. Though there wasn't as much sunlight down here as there was above, I could easily make out the destruction of last night. Luckily, no trees had collapsed under the minor landslide. But the sheer amount of dirt and dislodged boulders were enough for me to warily eye the wreckage, ready to bolt in case he triggered something.

When he scanned me head to toe, I met his gaze unflinchingly. "Skitter," he nodded. He didn't change form once he cleared the wreckage, instead remaining elongated. A bit spider-like, now that I had the chance to view him in person.

"Miss Militia sent you to retrieve me?" I asked, and he nodded.

"That's right. Are you ready to go up?"

"Yes. No- wait," I said, shaking my head rapidly. _Wake up!_ "You need to see something." His eyebrows rose as I spoke, and came to rest a good way up his forehead once I finished.

He looked ready to disagree, and the embarrassing image of him plucking me from the ground and hoisting me over his shoulder crossed my mind. But then his face smoothed out, and any uncertainty was replaced with indifference. He shrugged. "Lead the way."

I lead him through the brush and trees, having to stomp through several unforgiving branches to reach the second stream while he cut through with irritating ease until he stopped short once the water came into view.

"Miss Militia said that finding a river would be our best bet, lower elevation our second. I'm willing to bet that this is our answer," I said before he could speak.

My bugs picked up a slight hiss as his metal eyeballs slid against his lids, eyeing the stream. "I think you're right," he said, facing me. "I'll go and report this to Miss Militia."

"I already did," I told him without missing a beat. "She wants to see it herself before deciding if the rest should follow." I had relayed the information as I was fumbling in my answer to Weld. He frowned but nodded and left, cutting through the forest with the same effortlessness as before.

I followed him away with my bugs, taking the opportunity to remove my mask and hook it at my waist. I splashed my face awake, and washed out my mouth as best I could in place of a toothbrush- I missed mine more than words could express- then carefully followed the path Weld had made to my bush.

My spiders had done as well as I could've hoped. The silk band was only an inch wide, but it was a good start _. A great start,_ I thought, and tugged it up my wrist. Spending my time out in the woods made me appreciate sleeves in a way cold never did. Scrapes and tiny cuts littered my arms, last night's fall only adding more grime and pain, so the sooner I could make sleeves, the better.

I stopped once I took sight of a furry leg peeking out from the leaves. My bugs already confirmed my suspicions, but I still hesitated before moving the branches away.

Five rabbits, each with their noses clogged of ants and spiders. I looked away as an ant crawled out from one's mouth.

How the hell was I going to explain this? Murdering fluffy little rabbits in my sleep by asphyxiation, choking them as I snoozed away; it wasn't the most endearing characteristic. And yet food was food, and I couldn't just waste them.

Weld returned with Miss Militia held in front of him, his arms folded underneath her own. I emerged from the brush with the rabbits as an afterthought. I could've hidden one or two, but I had horrible luck with secrets and this one wasn't worth keeping.

Miss Militia greeted me with a nod, one that I returned. "Where's this stream?" she asked, and I was thankful that she got right down to business.

Her reaction was much the same as mine, and she sent Weld to collect the rest of our group from where they were waiting. A quick check showed them along the edge, Kid Win replacing his tool kit in his armor last second.

As we waited, I felt more than saw her twitch. A pinch of dread filled me as she had finally noticed the rabbits, and I waited for her response.

She said nothing.

I buried my surprise under a healthy dose of suspicion, waiting for her to broach the subject, but she remained silent.

Once Weld had finished ferrying the rest down the slope, they met Miss Militia and I at the edge of the stream. None of them responded with the amount of glee I thought my discovery merited, but I didn't mind. I was still pleased. I'd only discovered it because I fell, but they _let_ me fall. Therefore, I felt like it was close enough to call it a personal victory. I had to take those as they came.

As we set off once more, I was both disappointed and proud of my progress.

I had proved my usefulness outside of fighting, showing that I could provide for our group and with a little help, build us a fire. I didn't think they would abandon me- Miss Militia's short speech rang fresh in my mind- but it would be better if they saw that I had more abilities beyond ruthlessly incapacitating my enemies.

And yet I didn't miss the way Miss Militia never let her eyes stray from me for too long. It didn't escape me that I'd had a designated guard since two days ago when I'd first awoken. I hadn't had a lone moment except when I left to relieve myself. Weld was no further than an arm's reach at all other times, and I even caught Clockblocker more than once stray towards me. Deliberate or not, it worked to set my paranoia on fire.

I garnered from the sun that managed to sneak through the cover of the trees that it was close to noon, which meant the heat would only rise. My skin already glistened with the beginning of what promised to be buckets of sweat throughout the day, and I fought the urge to distance myself further from the group.

Disregarding the stench of blood and smoke that was quickly becoming my trademark, I felt and smelled grungier than ever. We all probably stank barring Weld, but that didn't stop me from feeling self-conscious.

Clockblocker fell back from his place beside Kid Win to join me at the back of the group. I tensed, but he remained curiously silent. Miss Militia's work, no doubt.

His costume was scratched and marked with dirt, bare of the animated clocks that usually covered it, yet he walked with a straight back and squared shoulders. He didn't acknowledge me, not so much as glance my way, but I felt his eyes regardless.

I withdrew to my bugs. Birds flew above us, drawn to my swarm and I had to disperse it to dissuade a rather persistent sparrow. Water brought life, attracted it, and overhead were nests and hidey-holes that chirped from occupation. I smiled as I registered a doe further away hidden amongst the foliage, grazing on a patch of grass and wildflowers.

Though there wasn't much chatter save for the occasional check-in, we didn't walk in complete silence. There was a great deal of buzzing- my fault, but I couldn't help it. Birds sang their songs in the thicket, accentuated with the percussion of the rustle of leaves where a stray wind blew. It was high enough in the tree tops that we couldn't feel it, which was a tease under the blistering sun.

But despite its beauty, I couldn't ignore the uglier side. The ground had started to twist underfoot with roots, making it a maze to find the right footing. Coupled with the shroud of branches that obscured our view of the sky, and this forest was becoming downright hellish.

"How are we doing?" Miss Militia called out. The stream had begun to widen considerably, but I wouldn't call it a river. It was shallow enough that I could spot fish darting across the stream bed.

A variety of " _fine"_ rang out, accompanied by a thumbs up from Clockblocker that was a little too enthusiastic. Miss Militia spared Vista a longer glance than the rest of us. The girl was standing straight but her exposed skin was tellingly pale. She didn't say anything, though, and we continued on.

By the time we reached an overhang, the bottom masked by more crowding trees, Vista was on Clockblocker's back with her mouth drawn into a taut frown. Sweat marked her upper lip, and my mosquitos picked up her shallow gasps whenever Clockblocker fumbled in his steps.

But then the trees cleared away after we managed to untangle ourselves downhill, and we paused to take in the sight.

Our little stream was no less than the arm of a _very_ large body of water. Miss Militia had been right. The river was calm where we stood, but the low thrum of a drumming current rolled farther down, out of sight. Across from us, mountains shyly peeked over the treetops, unhindered by the now inconsequential branches, and their frosted tips glowed blindingly in the sunlight. It was breathtakingly cliché.

Miss Militia recovered first and followed where our stream poured into the river. She balanced her way across the jagged rocks that made up the top of the river bank. They were loose enough that it made crossing them a dangerous game of hopscotch when they wobbled, but after the immediate jumble the rocks lessened in size till only smooth, gray pebbles sprinkled with larger stones remained.

"West coast," I spoke up from the back of the group.

Miss Militia turned her head to where it had been focused on a handful of pebbles. She regarded me for a moment, then the mountains that loomed over us. "I'd say you're right," she said.

"West coast? As in, America?" Kid Win asked, slightly breathless. On Clockblocker's back shifted Vista, her face buried into his armored shoulder.

Miss Militia nodded. "Yes. I'd suspected it from some of the plants, though I'm no expert on botany. If anything, these mountains confirm it." The pebbles trickled to the ground with a tilt of her hand. She stood. "The largest forests are in the west. Depending on where we are, it could take weeks to reach civilization. However, if you don't mind a blind guess I'd put us in the Northwest." Her face softened into a smile, however slight it was. "That's a good thing."

I suppressed a frown. I've never been on the West coast, but from what I knew about the Northwest, it rained. A lot. I could see from a practical standpoint that rain meant fresh water, but with a river as our guide it was going to cause more trouble than it was worth. We had no shelter, and if it rained hard enough to produce some sort of mudslide or flooding, we'd be screwed.

"That's a good thing," Miss Militia repeated, "because while the forests in the Northwest can be large, they're definitely better to be stranded in than those of Alaska or California."

We all adjusted to the new information. If Miss Militia's blind guess was correct, we had a chance. Maybe a small one, but it was a fighting one. _Like a crippled boxer,_ I thought. I could work with that. But if she was wrong…

I guess I'd have more time to prove that the heroes needed the villains.

"In any case, all we can do now is focus on the present." A bowie knife holstered itself against her thigh. "I think some bathing is due. We'll rest here, take our time until we're ready to move again."

Miss Militia softened her voice, her tone motherly as she reached out to lift Vista off of Clockblocker's back. "I think we'll go first. If you would all go back into the forest?" she asked. It wasn't a question.

Weld, Kid Win, Clockblocker and I made our way back to the tree line. The low branches and tangled roots were claustrophobic compared to the open air, and I focused on a trail of ants marching in the sun to distract from the sensation.

We stopped before burying ourselves too deep into the forest. I sat on the ground, a rough trunk against my back, resigned at the fact that I couldn't outrun the smell of pine. Beyond the stench of my own body, I was beginning to take on the scent of an air freshener.

Kid Win sat further away, already unloading various pieces of his armor to work on them with his small tool kit. Weld crossed his legs, making his lack of a groin obvious to the world.

Clockblocker set himself down in front of me, and I stared at the smooth face of his mask, waiting for him to speak.

He didn't disappoint. "Miss Militia doesn't want me talking to you without her around. Gave me an order, said she'd add it to my record if we return to Brockton Bay." I noted the _'if'._ "But I just want a few more answers before we get too deep into this alliance. I don't know how long we'll be in it. Then I'll leave you alone."

Weld sent him a look I couldn't identify, but he didn't step in.

"Are you sure you want to risk it?" I asked.

He chuckled humorlessly. "What, are you worried? Or is that some genuine concern for my pristine record?"

"I'm worried you're not going to like what you'll hear."

He tilted his head, watching me for a moment. Kid Win paused in his tinkering and spared us an uncertain look. Then, "Sophia Hess."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **This chapter was an incredible, but enjoyable pain. I probably began this chapter towards the middle-end of February and made huge alterations several days ago. I ended up taking a good 3,500+ words out and moved them to next chapter. So if the writing style seems to change halfway through (which would be devastating), that would be why.**

 **Let me know if everyone is in character! I found myself continuously adding snarky little comments from Taylor's perspective, which I then removed most of in horror because it seemed just a bit OOC. I'm a little worried that that continued over to the next chapter, so let me know if it's still weird.**


	6. Cumulus 1-6

**A/N:**

 **So this is a little late, but where I'm at it's still Thursday, so I'm still on schedule!**

 **I want to say thanks once more for all of your support! It means so much to me, especially to those who've thought it was worth mentioning on Reddit!**

 **Drako90451: It's so nice to hear from you again! Don't worry, it'll happen. I had the reveals in mind before I had the rest of the plot figured out, actually.**

 **Prosthetic Forehead: Great thoughts! I'm glad you like it so far. And thanks for sticking with the story despite the scars; I promise, they're important! *cries and shakes fist* I can't think of anything to say to the rest of your thoughts without hinting at or giving away the plot, but again, thank you!**

 **Guest: I'm not sure if you'll read this or not, but thank you for reviewing! I welcome and accept all reviews, and I won't delete yours for its less-than-stellar review because I'm a Journalism student and value the freedom of speech. That being said, if you start spam-flaming me without solid critique, I will delete your reviews. Thank you for spending the time to let me know your thoughts, and I hope you find another fic that suits your taste.**

 **For future chapters, I will be responding to all reviews via PM and will only reply here if a review has a specific question that I find interesting/relevant to the all readers. Thank you!**

* * *

Something in my face must have alarmed Weld, for he placed a hand on Clockblocker's shoulder and said, "That's enough. Any more and I'll tell Miss Militia."

"No, it's fine," I spoke evenly. A hundred yards away, a centipede teetered off the edge of a rock and into the swirling waters of the river below. "What do you want to know about her?"

He shrugged, "Just enough to see if my theory is right. You went to the same school, Winslow. You were bullied by three girls. Your 'peers'," he supplied air quotes appropriately, "if I'm to use the exact term. That places them in the same grade as you if the news wasn't using the word generally. Am I right so far?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Weld sat by silently.

"Sophia never said much about her civilian life, and we didn't ask. But every once in a while, when she'd come to HQ in a real mood, she'd mention this one girl in her class."

A chill ran through my veins.

Clockblocker continued, "She wouldn't say much, just that this 'ugly glasses bitch' was annoying or lame or depressing, and none of us ever paid any mind to it because we figured she said the same about us.

"Except Sophia was one of your bullies," he said. "When you kidnapped Shadow Stalker, you weren't just kidnapping the cape. You were kidnapping Sophia. You acted with the full knowledge of who she was and whatever she'd done to you in the past. Yes?"

"Yes."

"You ruined her life for revenge."

"No," I said.

He threw up his hands. "So you targeted her, turned her against her team and family for nothing?"

A spark of annoyance bit me on the ankle; we've had this conversation before. "For a _little girl,"_ I emphasized. "A little girl who had been kidnapped and drugged out of her mind. If I had to choose again, I would do it in a heartbeat. A kid over a murdering psycho? Easy choice."

"I could say the same about you," he replied.

Did Miss Militia tell someone about Coil after all? I spared a glance towards Weld and he tilted his head a fraction, a movement so slight I would've missed if it weren't for the fly on his neck. He might not have been on my side, but we both knew there were some things better left unsaid.

Clockblocker didn't seem to notice our little exchange. "I still find it hard to believe that you didn't pick her out of some vendetta, but fine. What about Arcadia?"

"What about it?" I asked. The mask at my side dug into my arm.

"You had two other bullies, students that would've transferred to Arcadia if they stuck around the Bay and survived. You showed up on the _first day back,_ and I doubt it was to attend school."

"If you're implying that I showed up to attack them, that's stupid. _Ridiculously_ so. I could've gone Carrie on Winslow long ago, yet I'd choose to attack two girls that weren't even a speck on my radar? In a place known for hero-presence? Yeah, no."

Clockblocker regarded me. "Why'd you come, then?"

I grit my teeth, knowing that he'd appreciate the cruel irony. "I got word that my identity was compromised."

There was a clang as Kid Win dropped his mini screwdriver. It bounced off his gauntlet and landed with a muffled thud against the forest floor, and he picked it up with a grimace.

"I can't help but find that hilarious," Clockblocker said. "Sorry."

He didn't sound an ounce apologetic, and I didn't fault him for that. I picked up Miss Militia and Vista finishing up at the river, and I stood. "They're returning."

"So that's it?"

"What's it?" I asked, brow furrowing.

"You're just… _done_ with how you've screwed with those girls' lives?"

I stopped. "What?"

Weld placed a hand on his shoulder. A warning.

Clockblocker didn't mind it. "Sophia's a cape. She's been in combat; she knew the risks putting on a mask. But those girls? They're citizens. Mean ones, sure, but unpowered. Defenseless. And now they have to live with the knowledge that the very girl they'd been victimizing has the power to devour them with roaches while they sleep. They have to live with the fact that their actions affected thousands of others, maybe _hundreds_ of thousands if we're counting the waves you've made across the country." He wiggled his fingers. "Do you get off on that?"

I didn't know where to _begin_ to respond. "No. Emma and Madison? Their existences are inconsequential. Their fears, worries? A waste of thought."

He regarded me for a moment. Weld opened his mouth to speak-

"Just what did they _do_ to you to make you this way?" Clockblocker burst before I could blink.

I opened my mouth to reply, but all that escaped was a shuddered breath. I slammed my jaw shut with horror and immediately spun around.

I had to leave, I had to get _out._ Except where could I go? I was already outside, and there weren't any doors to hide behind. I took off anyway, and no one protested as I sped my way down the slope, hopping over the twisted roots and gnarled twigs that grabbed at me as I ran.

I was covered in scrapes by the time I reached the end of the trees, and I was panting from more than exertion. I was still on an adrenaline high, fight-or-flight mentality, and my power buzzed at the edges of my mind. My chest heaved as I fought to gain back some semblance of control over my body. I had mostly succeeded when Miss Militia and Vista reached me.

They were both wet, having washed themselves and their costumes in the river. Vista looked immensely better, though her soaked hair and uniform made her look younger and smaller than before. Her skin was a bit pale, and from the way she held her shoulders I gathered her migraine hadn't left, but she didn't look a step away from collapsing.

Miss Militia rose an eyebrow at my shaking hands. I answered before she could ask, stepping around them as I said, "I'm going to wash off. The others are straight ahead."

I wasn't sure if they said anything in response, but I wasn't sticking around. I was crawling over the sharp rocks that sidled the river bed by the time they made their way into the forest. My swarm erupted then, surrounding me in a cloud that mapped out a path over the loose stones as I reached the pebbled ground.

I walked straight into the river and didn't stop until I was wading up to my waist, and then I stuffed my body under the current and the water closed over me like a wound. Though the current wasn't strong, there was still some force pressing against my body. It felt refreshingly real so I lingered, allowing my emotions to pour out of me.

 _What was_ that _all about?_

Clockblocker's words struck a nerve. Worse, they made me pissed, and that wasn't going to help anyone.

That was the problem with the past. It didn't matter how strong or capable I was now; the bullying was a part of my history. I wasn't going to be able to change any of that, but I could accept it and move on.

 _But I thought I had,_ I thought fruitlessly. The bullying was so _insignificant_ now, and somewhere down the road I had stopped thinking about Emma and Madison, Sophia as well. Until Clockblocker brought it up before Echidna and Arcadia happened. _Then_ I thought about the girls. But it wasn't to ponder revenge or lament my poor fortune in life, just to reflect on how things had changed.

I damn sure hadn't cried about it. But was that what had almost happened?

 _No,_ I decided. At least, not about the bullying. The thought of school and the girls brought to mind Brockton Bay, and with that followed one word.

Home.

I missed the smell of brine on the summer wind and the cool tones of the bay at dawn. I missed the clang of metal and wood as my people rebuilt their homes. I missed my _people._

 _Lisa, Brian, Rachel, Aisha, Alec. Dad._ Those who I'd been fighting and justifying my actions for, whether they'd agree with them or not. They were all I had left, and now I had nothing.

The feeling was reminiscent of another time, and I stilled as the memory poured forth.

* * *

 _May 14th, 2011_

We were the reason Dinah Alcott was kidnapped.

As we slowly walked back to base, she was down there, shackled in pajamas and the syrupy tongue of whatever drug she was fucked up on. I thought of the moment her dead eyes bore into mine, familiar from the look I'd seen in my own many times before, and I had to clasp my hands together to keep them from rising to my chest.

"Are you _dense_?" I asked Regent. Any control I'd been holding onto since leaving Coil's base slipped into a bite. It was aimed at him, but I took the words as if I said them to myself.

He didn't know that, though, and his tone was laced in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. "Fuck off, Dork." His mask stared back, cool white against the red rushing to my eyes.

"No, you-"

"Taylor, let me explain," Tattletale broke in, looking pale. I let her; she had figured it out as well. But with her power, how could she have not known before?

"I didn't think it would be this bad," she said. She sounded tired, and by the pained expression on her face I gathered she knew where my thoughts had gone. "I _sort of_ knew, but not that it was like this. I swear, Taylor, I didn't know." I ignored the lapse of my real name. I wasn't sure I could speak without hurling expletives in her general direction, so I clenched my jaw and looked away.

As she told the rest of the group what I had already gleamed, I pondered my next move. There was no way I could work for Coil, not with what I had just learned. If kidnapping little kids and drugging them up was how he operated, I wanted no part of that.

But who was I against everyone else? I didn't have the power to pull one over Coil and his army of villains. I only knew of the Travelers, Trainwreck and Circus, but there had to be more other than them. _And us,_ I added, but I wasn't sure how I factored into the Undersiders now.

"Are you guys _seriously_ okay with this?" I interrupted Tattletale, who broke off mid-explanation without complaint.

Bitch met me with a stony glare. Okay, I wasn't expecting an ally there.

"Compared to what I left behind? It's not that bad," Regent shrugged.

"But you left Heartbreaker behind for this type of stuff."

"I left my dad because it stopped being _fun_. Once I get bored with Coil, I'll leave as well."

I swallowed my disgust. To think that I'd been associating myself with these people, _friends_ with them. And yet I still couldn't help but think of them as my friends, and that disgusted me almost more than anything else about this.

It was a feeling I was well-acquainted with, disgust. Except how was I going to deal with it this time? In the past I had other distractions or more important things on my plate, but this wasn't something that could just go away. As long as that girl was down there, there wasn't going to be any reprieve.

I chewed my lip, breathed deep and amended that thought.

As long as I _let_ her stay down there.

It was true that I didn't have the power to fight off Coil and his forces, but if it wasn't about power, I had a chance. If I played along just as I had been doing, I could get in Coil's good graces and bail Dinah out. A trade or something. That, or gain enough clearance to whisk her away…

No, that idea was almost as implausible as the first. But I had to _try._ If I didn't, I'd never know if I'd done all that I could to help the kid. And knowing that she was halfway out of her mind, possibly going through the days without any memory or hope-

It hit close to home, in a way.

Brian met my stare with folded arms, and his tone was confident, self-assured despite the wrongness of the situation. "The world is a cruel place, Skitter. All over, things happen like this and we can't do a damn thing to stop it. Not without paying the cost. And if that cost is at my family and my team, and screwing Coil over is _definitely_ in that category, I won't pay it. Aisha and you guys are my priority."

An hour ago I would've found his natural confidence attractive. Now, I was absolutely repelled.

 _Should I just turn myself in and get the PRT involved?_

That thought froze all others, and I mulled over it slowly, contemplating the different ways it could turn out. I'd be sent to juvie if not jail, and they'd ask me to give up every drop of information I knew. That included info on my teammates.

 _I'd have no friends,_ I thought bitterly, and couldn't help the short laugh that bubbled out of my lips. Did I ever? I laughed again, harsher, in a bark that could rival Brutus's.

Brian drew back as if alarmed, and Tattletale suddenly shot her attention to me from where it had been glued to the street.

"Taylor, you don't want to do this," she said, and suddenly it felt like a bucket of ice poured down my back. Wherever that laugh had bubbled up from, that well was dry.

Could she have finally discovered my plans of betrayal, despite the fact that I'd given them up a few days prior?

"Do what?" I asked. Surprisingly, my voice was smooth. Unfortunately, my voice was nowhere near smooth before and it had no place to be right now, so it might as well have been a waving banner that read _Beware: Incoming Bugs_.

Tattletale stepped forward, and despite myself I took a step back. This caught the eye of Regent and Bitch, who had relegated themselves to the sideline of the conversation. The dogs noticed the change in mood and their hackles rose, their white teeth gleaming from the shadows.

"You…" she began, then trailed off, confusion plastered all over her body. She tilted her head, appraising me in that way of hers, and I folded my arms as if they could wall her off.

Her eyes narrowed at my movement. "What are you hiding, Taylor?" she asked slowly. Quietly. Inexplicably, I heard her over the rush in my ears.

"What do you mean?" Grue asked.

She jerked, shifting her gaze from where it had been falling to my chest. I got the impression she hadn't meant to be overheard.

I didn't wait for her answer. I turned and fled.

"Taylor, wait!" Tattletale called after me, but I ignored her. Darkness formed around me but I directed bugs into the gaps of Grue's armor and it dissipated just as fast. "Shit! Let her go," he said.

My legs pumping the whole way, lungs straining and skin _pulling,_ I made it back to base and collected my meager belongings. It was strange, the moment I realized that all I had left fit in one bag.

I collapsed in the loft, resting against the wall in some semblance of strength. The others weren't back yet, and I had no intention of staying around till they did. But the stance kept me grounded, for all the façade it was.

I had no idea what I was going to do now.

In one way, things had never been clearer. I was free for the first time in my life. My dad was gone; I hadn't been in contact with him since I left a note on the front door and disappeared, and though the time wasn't that long ago, it felt like it had been years. I loved him, he was my _dad,_ but I couldn't stay there. Absence had a way of feeling heavier when the person was still present, and that was what my dad had become. And that was what I had left behind.

But for what? _This?_ A shabby loft, a one-eyed dog that watched me warily from her nest of pillows and a group of friends that was more comfortable with a kidnapped girl than owning up to their actions?

I didn't realize it before, but everything I'd done up to this point was about discovering who I was. For so long my identity had been in my friendship with Emma, and after she betrayed me it had become what she had made me into. Shy, hiding in oversized clothes with an eye always looking over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and sighed into the empty apartment. So who was I now?

"They're going to be back soon." Tattletale's voice came from the doorway. I opened my eyes and watched the expression on her face change as she took my appearance in. I wondered what emotion I was conveying.

I started to get to my feet but she settled down across from me. I debated ignoring her, but something in her body language convinced me to stay, and I grudgingly sat back down.

"Where are you going to go, Taylor?"

"A motel, maybe. Why should you care? Or is this some round-about way of telling me you're going to hunt me down?"

"No. I don't even know what's going _on._ You're scaring me," she said. I looked away, swallowing. "Tell me what's going on," she pleaded.

"Don't tell me you don't already know," I said. "I saw the moment you figured it out."

She grew quiet and I couldn't help but look up, then immediately wished I hadn't. There was pity in her eyes, a deeper look that I knew all too well.

 _She knows,_ I thought, a new type of horror filling me. I'd thought she discovered my betrayal, but it was my scars. Somehow, that was worse.

"I… It's only a hunch," she whispered, staring at my chest. I hadn't removed my costume yet, but despite the armor I felt as if I were naked.

I didn't answer, leaving her to flounder in the silence. I didn't know what I could possibly say. Did it even matter now, any of it? I couldn't stay on the team. If not already because of Dinah, because I couldn't stand being around another person who would treat me like I was made of porcelain. Or slime.

But against all of my expectation, Lisa crossed the space between us and pulled me into a hug. I was stiff, too shocked to pull away or return it, so my body was reduced to a plank of wood playing at being human. But it was still nice, and some of the ice within me thawed at the touch.

"I can help, you know," Lisa whispered. Her warm breath tickled my hair against my ears.

"You- I can't," I bit out, took a deep breath and tried again. "I can't let you see."

 _Because take that armor away, and I'll have nothing left. I'll be bare to the world and I'm not strong enough to deal with that. Not now._

She didn't respond, but only held me tighter. I craved the contact, but I'd already taken too long and I didn't want to wait around for the others or for this hug to become awkward. Thankfully, she pulled away first.

"You don't have to leave just because you ran out. The others are pissed that you left, but if we just talk over the situation…" she trailed off.

"You mean talk over the fact that we helped kidnap a child? _Lisa_ ," I stressed, "the fact you even want to negotiate is pretty fucked up. We need to _do_ something."

"I agree, but we can't," Lisa said. She bit her lip, an expression of hesitance that didn't belong on her.

She wasn't going to say anything else? I expected an excuse or offer of truce, something that would give her argument sustenance. But she continued to watch me, regarding me with one lip tucked lightly between her teeth, and I decided it was time to go.

I rose, stepping around her form to leave.

"I'm not going to say goodbye," she said to my back. "That's not my thing, and I don't think this will be the last time we'll see each other. I'm going to fix this thing with Coil if I have to do it myself, and I'm going to find a way to help you because you're my friend. Just… promise me that you'll let me help you when that time comes, okay?"

I turned and made to respond when the blare of sirens interrupted me. Lisa's face hardened into its own kind of mask. She went to the living room and I followed her a step behind, and the television zapped to life.

The news was running through standard emergency protocol: head to the nearest bomb shelter, take only what you can carry, follow the directions of the local authorities…

"Endbringer," I said in dawning realization. Bakuda hadn't warranted this, very little had. So what else could it be?

Lisa went very still. She was still in her costume, both of us were, and for the first time since speaking with her I realized she had put her hair up. I didn't know what to call her then, for it was the first time I'd ever seen her like this. Like a stranger with no name, this girl stood before me in silence while the world around us screamed.

Her hand reached for her pony tail seemingly with a mind of its own, hers obviously preoccupied with calculations and impossible hunches. "The others and I, we talked about this possibility in the past. Before you joined up. You know the usual response."

I did.

Her hair slipped free of its band and fell in waves across her face. "We promised we'd go. You left, but we could play it off as just a small fight, nothing serious. The others wouldn't keep you out if you just apologize and went as a teammate, but really, you don't have to fight-"

"No, I'll fight. But I'll go alone," I said. I didn't even have to think about it.

* * *

 _July 17th, 2011_

In the end, Lisa had escorted me to where the defending line met up, but she respected my wishes and left without a word.

It was my choice, but it didn't make it any easier. In fact, it was one of the worst, most frightening moments of my life; not because of Leviathan, but because I was truly untethered from everyone I loved. There was a good chance I wouldn't have anyone left to mourn me if I died. They would either be dead themselves couldn't find the heart to care.

And after the ordeal, waking up to only think Armsmaster destroyed any chance for me to rejoin my team made me realize I didn't have the willpower to stay alone. So I shed my pride and dignity and crawled back, and that time, I didn't turn around.

Funny, that that might have been the bravest thing I'll ever do in my life. There weren't many things left that could scare me now, except the possibility of losing my team again.

None of us had brought it up, but there was a good chance that we were in another world. Earth Aleph or some other. We could be stranded where there was no civilization, people having never existed, and doomed to wander in the wilderness until something killed us.

Or we killed each other.

We might be on the West Coast if our best guesses were actually correct and not just blind stabs in the dark, but that didn't mean we were anywhere close to America. This country might as well hold a name far different from our own, like Canadia, or Britain: Phase Two.

 _Or Dickland,_ my mind betrayed me. My pulse flared in numb panic; I could die in a country called _Dickland._

I rose for air, breathing deep as water droplets mapped out veins across my skin. It wouldn't do to think that way. As far as I was concerned, I still had my reasons for fighting. They weren't beside me, but they were still out there waiting for me to come home.

And I'd do just that. I'd shown what I could do when I gave my all in the past. I'd taught my enemies and allies alike how capable I was when I put my mind to it, and this was the sort of battle I was used to. Odds out of my favor and the bat clear across the field.

 _I'll show them all. Watch out, world,_ I thought. Cheesy and optimistic, would undoubtedly bite me in the ass later, but it was what I needed.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes and leaned into the current. Facing an Endbringer with a good hundred capes beside me had made me appreciate the value of numbers. Every fight only solidified that appreciation, whether it be with my team at my back or the other alliances we'd made against our shared enemies. If I were to be serious about returning home, which I unmeasurably _was,_ I needed to take stock.

I could think of a few enemies all of us shared right now.

Determination swelling within me, I stepped to a bar of rocks in the middle of the river to untie my various armor pieces from my body. I wasn't going to add 'swept away supplies' to my list of problems if I could help it.

I left my spider silk shoe-wraps on as protection against the rocky river floor, tightening them as much as I could without cutting off my circulation. Only then did I lower myself into the water, slowly this time.

Stripping was a no-go. I'd seen too many movies to know it was a dumb way to get myself killed out in the woods, and while I could handle myself against a killer lumberjack, I wasn't going to risk it in case of an emergency. And if I were to fully appreciate the method of practicality, my clothes needed a wash and the sun was already scorching. This would keep me cool.

I set to rubbing away the grime that caked my skin, using my fingernails to rake away the more stubborn clumps of blood and dirt. I had just finished scrubbing my undergarments when Miss Militia stepped into my range.

She was alone, walking at a calm but steady pace in my direction and looking to be in no hurry. I didn't bother her, but I kept her movements in mind as I reattached my armor, rearranging several components so I had a passable defense.

My chest had mostly scabbed over and its sting had all but left, pushed out of mind by more pressing matters.

But as they tended to in quiet moments, my scars itched with a phantom lick. I ran tentative fingers down the tips of the two lines that marred my chest. In the sunlight, the residual water glittered and gave my skin a faint shimmer. I frowned as the image of a slot machine came to mind before casting it away.

I donned the final piece on my chest, hiding the lines from mind and world, and was halfway through wrapping my spider silk lanyard around my waist when Miss Militia exited the forest.

I saved her the trouble of having to make the trip over the rocks and met her halfway, and we stood with a slight distance between us, not too much to be considered an impasse but enough to qualify for a western standoff. Without the overlying sense of death thankfully, but if she decided to whip out a pistol I was good as dead.

"Would you care to sit?" Miss Militia asked, and I hid my surprise with a nod. She eased herself to the ground and, taking a leap of faith, I approached and sat so we were only a few feet away.

I examined her like an artist would a painting. Her dark hair hung free and damp, curling at the ends with beads of water sliding lazily down her front. The wound across her forehead was healing up nicely, though if her rigid movements were any indication I suspected it didn't feel as well as it looked.

"I spoke with Clockblocker and gathered the gist of what happened," she said. "He shouldn't have harassed you, and he won't be given another chance. He'll be facing more than a few marks against his record when we get back."

 _When._ Optimism either forced or real, I could get behind it.

"I didn't expect any different," I told her. "I'm actually a bit surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

She paused. "I apologize for that."

I must have conveyed the dull shock I felt, for she elaborated. "This situation isn't easy for any of us, you perhaps least of all. The Wards have each other." _And you have no one,_ went unsaid.

A cricket hopped into my lap, and I had it chitter to fill the silence while I thought over her words. "I was going to turn myself in the day the Simurgh attacked," I said abruptly.

Miss Militia's eyes widened. Whether it was in surprise or doubt, I didn't dwell on it.

"No catch, only a few compromises like we had talked about. But they would've put us in a better position for the next Endbringer attack."

That attack had come earlier than we thought. If I had turned myself in sooner, would we be here right now?

"You honestly believed that would've worked?"

I shrugged. "Enough that it was worth a try. In any case, the plan's changed. I think it'll take more than me in custody for the heroes and villains to rally together from something like this. We need something better."

Her brows furrowed.

"Trust me," I said. "You were willing to give me the benefit of the doubt several days ago, and I was in a better position to fight against you then I am now. If anyone has the upper hand, it's you guys."

Miss Militia regarded me for a moment, then said, "You've proven to be quite the underdog in the past, Skitter."

I nodded, "Yes, but that's what we need right now. People willing to fight the impossible fight and _win._ If we're going to try to be those people-"

"-we need to be willing to work together," Miss Militia cut in. "I agree. But you need to understand that not everyone is as ready to move on as you. There's going to be tension whether we like it or not, and a few pretty words aren't going to change that." She rose her brows meaningfully.

I caught the implications. "Actions will," I said aloud for the benefit of our conversation. I made to stand and she rose with me, the single cricket moving to my palm. "I understand."

I extended a hand and she took it.

"As do I," she replied.

We shook on it, and I had the cricket between us chitter to solidify the agreement. In place of pen and paper, it would have to do.

The travel back to 'camp' was in relative silence, and I preferred it that way. It gave me time to think through what I would say when we reached the others.

It didn't prepare me for seeing their faces, though. Clockblocker's especially, despite his being hidden by his mask. They were in the same spot that I left them, with the added addition of Vista filling in the hole by Kid Win, connecting him to the rest of the group. They looked up as we joined them.

Overhead, I could feel the heat of the afternoon sun on thousands of different insects above the trees. I singled out a moth and had it nestle itself on the tip of a branch.

There was a time I'd cast away my pride and arrogance, two features Armsmaster and Sophia had possessed that I wanted no part of.

This was another one of those times.

I spoke first, "I'm sorry."

Whatever their expressions were, I was pretty sure it was along the lines of Weld's. One fine-wired eyebrow raised above the other, silver eyes narrowing in what I gathered to be a mesh of confusion and suspicion.

"I know it's hard having me here, and you guys have a right to be angry with me about certain aspects of the past. Even though I was pissed, I shouldn't have run off without letting you know where I was going." I locked eyes with Clockblocker, "But I can't answer that last question."

He nodded his head. "That's fine. It was a reaction test, more or less."

 _Bastard._

I kept my tone calm and replied, "I understand." And I did. I thought it was a little odd how he'd confronted me; not the fact that he'd done it, but the way he'd gone about it. Why the hell should I feel bad if my bullies were a little scared or felt some remorse, however misplaced it may have been?

But if his questions were a way to test my danger towards the group, I could see where he was coming from.

I continued, "I might've done the same thing." Maybe, it was a ballsy move. Sure, he was surrounded by team mates, but I'd made him eat bugs in the past. "It actually gave me a chance to get my thoughts in order. I have something I want to say to the group."

I looked at Miss Militia for confirmation and she nodded once, short. I sat with my legs crossed on the forest floor, both to ground myself and to lower me to their level. Appearances were everything here.

"I won't deny that there are similarities between me and some other pretty ruthless villains. Take Kaiser and Lung, for example. But unlike them, I don't prey on the innocent. I don't enjoy senseless violence. I don't go out of my way to hurt people. In fact, I _hurt_ the people that hurt people."

I locked eyes with Weld. "Do you really think you guys could've handled the city in wake of Leviathan without the Undersiders? The Slaughter House Nine? It's easy to say that without us there, you wouldn't have needed reinforcements, but there still would've been Coil and the Travelers, the Chosen and Pure. Hell, probably even the E88 and ABB. Bakuda, too. Our home needed us, so we did what we had to to save it."

"You're serious right now?" Kid Win broke in incredulously, offense underlying his tone.

I nodded. "We've played our parts as villains- not trying to belittle our crimes, they're as bad in retrospect as they were at the time- but we also saved countless lives and housed, clothed and fed hundreds. We fought everyday with our territories in mind, knowing how much was at stake if we lost."

"You're making excuses," Clockblocker said.

"Not… quite, but sure. I'm pointing out my side of things," I said slowly. "Just as you pointed out yours."

I paused, waiting for someone to take advantage of the silence. When they didn't, I said, "We're a team. I'm not saying let's have a group therapy session, take off our masks and cry about the past, just… _trust_ me. Honest. You don't have to like me; I don't expect it."

He didn't have anything to say to that, though his silence might've been in response to Miss Militia's pointed look.

I continued, "The world was given a few decades, give or take till 2050 when the Endbringers finally complete their destruction of humanity. That projected number was _before_ the PRT reveal, with the expectation that independent and heroic, villainous and the odd rogue would be fighting alongside each other. Now? That number has to be damn low. I mean, _look_ at us. The Simurgh played fast and loose with about every cape we were able to throw her way, then threw _us_ away. People have to be losing hope back home. If they weren't already."

I was met with a mix of frowns and straight faces.

I tilted my head away towards the dirt, roots and tiny saplings stretching grabby little hands from the earth. I traced the edge of one, and my mind flashed back to a fire, a bundle of sticks and a spark flitting off metal palms.

"The world… it needs a spark of hope. Something to get us back to that 2050, and maybe to 2070 and beyond that.

"And if we- the Brockton Bay Wards, a Case 53, a villain warlord and one core Protectorate member return as a _functioning_ team, can you imagine the effect that would have on the rest of the cape community? The world?"

I leaned forward, earnest. "We can be that spark."

A silence rested in the wake of my speech. They were rocks on a river bed, fish and grasses spilling over them while they remained anchored in the sand. Unmoving. A bead of sweat slid down the curve of my ear.

Miss Militia's weapon switched to a kunai knife that she began to swivel around her finger, and I watched mesmerized as she let it rotate with dizzying speed. It cut through the stillness that had settled over us in curtains of wine and she spoke, drawing our already-undivided attention.

"I'm with Skitter on this," she said, and something akin to triumph bled through my chest.

She continued, "The cape world needs some hope right now, a boost in morale in the wake of the PRT exposure, and this is a good way to do it. It won't be long before we'll be hurting beyond repair against the Endbringers. We're going to need all hands on deck, whether they're dirty or clean."

The kunai morphed into an Uzi that she clasped tightly in one hand. "Skitter's agreed full cooperation with my orders in the meantime, in addition to a Simurgh evaluation at the Department. We in turn will provide a group willing to work with her. No personal barbs, no attempts at revenge. I'm looking specifically at _you,_ Clockblocker," her voice lowered at the end. "And for the sake of putting everything out in the open, I'm placing Weld on Skitter duty."

Clockblocker made a sound suspiciously close to a snort. I chanced a glance at Weld, and had to fight the frown that threatened to show on full display. _Skitter duty?_

As if she were reading my mind, she added, "To keep us at ease. Regardless of this chat and whatever comes from it, some of us would still keep our attention focused on you when it's desperately needed elsewhere. And, if I'm to be completely honest here, it was already sort of happening." She shrugged. "Skitter, you'll be in charge of scouting ahead. Are you alright with also taking charge of our meals?"

"Yeah," I said, masking my bitter tone. If the term 'Skitter duty' was going to stick around, I wasn't going to be responsible for any maggot-infested rabbits.

"Are we all getting duties?" Vista piped up. Though her voice was thin, she held her head high.

Miss Militia nodded. "You can help with making tools while you're recuperating." Vista clenched her jaw.

Miss Militia continued as if she hadn't noticed, "We need bowls for water and food, light shelters that we can carry along as we travel. That's work that all of us will do. Kid Win-" he jerked, "-your main focus is on our tech, but if you need a break or some help, let us know." He nodded, staying silent in favor of returning to his work.

"And me?" Clockblocker asked.

"The same as the rest of us, on top of the jobs no one wants," Miss Militia answered. He didn't fight her on it. By the lack of anger, he was probably expecting it.

He stood up and brushed off his legs. "Fine by me. If that's it, I'm going to wash off. Kid?"

Kid Win shook his head, "No, there's too much work to be done." He didn't look up from his work.

"No, go," Vista said. She laid back against the ground and shut her eyes, and part of her wet blonde hair stuck to her face. She wiped it back. "I don't want to sleep next to your smelly self."

He made to argue, then stopped. By the look on his face, the physical realm had just registered with him, and a mixture of dehydration, disgust and indigestion blended his expression into an amusing mural. Clockblocker clapped him on the back and swept him away without a word, and the two disappeared down the slope. The rest of us remained seated, silent in the wake of our impromptu meeting.

Above me, the moth opened and closed its wings from its perch. I smiled, and it unfurled to the sultry summer air.

* * *

A drop of sweat trickled down the length of my spine and joined the gathering pool at my lower back. I sat achingly hunched over, fingers numb, palms cramped and a dull sting throbbing around my scraped knuckles. The prize?

My lips upturned in a barely-detectable grin, almost creaking from removing the frown that had lingered for hours of crafting the bowl nestled in my lap. Though the more accurate term for it was 'basket', considering its size and style of weaving, I couldn't find it in myself to care.

Once Clockblocker and Kid Win had returned from the river, Miss Militia had given us a crash course in basket weaving. Where she learned it, no one asked, but now we had a gradually forming arrangement of tools.

Vista and Clockblocker worked together, mostly the latter once Vista couldn't concentrate past the tighter knots and turns of the pattern. They were working on a water filter, a long tube of tied-together twigs that resembled more of a bundle of sticks than something that would clean our water. Still, they hadn't given up, and it was starting to make a comeback from the haystack it had devolved into.

While Kid Win didn't partake in our weaving circle, he sat close enough that his mutters could be easily heard. It might as well have been another language for the technical terms he was spouting between curses and other nonsensical sounds, but none of the group reacted. It had to be par for the norm for tinkers.

My swarm was gathered in full-force, and my spiders moved between fingers with threads of silk, reinforcing sections just as the makers moved on to the next. At first they were a little hesitant, twitchy-handed as if fighting the urge to pull back, but now they were taking it in good stride, only tensing minutely if a spider got too close.

Weld was currently grating away the rough edges of where he had stripped away the outer layer of a fallen log. The slab of bark was about as long as his arm, the width across being the length of his fingertip to his forearm. There was any amount of things we could use it for, but the main idea was to provide cover if a storm decided to interrupt our nice weather.

Three small, round cups and bowls made up Miss Militia's collection, perfect enough that I doubted my spider silk was necessary. It was a little pathetic how dismal my attempt looked beside them.

My own bowlsket was admittedly an ugly duckling, the mismatched grasses and twigs, roots and pliable branches overlapping each other with more than a few spaces in-between, but I was already knotting strands of grass in the holes and my spiders had covered almost half of it in a thin layer of silk. By evening the entire thing would be covered, as water-proof as we could hope for with our resources.

 _Plus_ , I thought with an amount of glee that would've been sad if I wasn't so desperate for some reprieve from the sun, _it doubles as a hat._ Uglier than fuck, but I'd take it.

I moved it to the side, out of the way of the pile of materials I had scrounged up. There were plenty of supplies to choose from, nature being a gift that never stopped giving, but it had still taken some time to find what I had. It was borderline ridiculous how easy Miss Militia made it look.

I rotated my wrists and tested my fingers, biting back a wince at the crackle they made. In the relative silence of my company, it was embarrassingly loud.

Despite having 'cleared the air', so to speak, conversation was lacking. Beyond the odd instruction from Miss Militia and Kid Win's mumbling, we remained in our own bubbles. I had to wonder how much of that was due to my presence. From my bugs I knew that even when I was out of normal hearing range, they didn't speak much.

If this was how our travel was going to be, lathered in absolute silence, I was going to lose my mind by the end of the week.

"Skitter, Weld?" _Or now._

I straightened and turned smoothly towards Miss Militia, though the effect was slightly ruined by the painfully loud creak of my body.

"Yes, Miss Militia?" Weld asked, pausing in his formation of the bark slab.

"While there's still some light, I'd like you two to look for something to eat."

I pursed my lips in thought. We had three cooked rabbits currently wrapped in leaves and spider silk attached to Miss Militia's belt. Without salt to preserve them they would go bad soon, but I didn't see the point in adding to our collection now. Besides, I'd already proven I could hunt without moving a finger.

 _But what do we really need?_

"I don't know anything about edible plants," I said. "Aside from a few berries, I'm out of my depth here." It was almost physically painful to admit it, but it was the truth.

Miss Militia nodded, "I figured."

She produced several greens from the folds of her clothes. I recognized dandelion leaves and strips of tree bark, as well as a handful of pine needles. Did she just goad me into admission?

 _Yes._ I narrowed my eyes but ignored it. If this was how she wanted to teach, I'd play along.

"These," she picked up the dandelion leaves, "are bitter if the flower's already bloomed, but they're packed with vitamins. I only grabbed a few of the leaves, but the entire plant is edible."

She picked up the tree bark, paused and asked, "Do you know your trees?"

And that was how I learned more about Douglass firs and Sitka spruces, nettles and huckleberries than I ever planned on in my lifetime. I thought I had read somewhere that she wasn't a born US citizen, but I was beginning to think Miss Militia had been a girl scout. She embodied her costume in every form.

The sky was a faded blue by the time we left the group. No one bid us farewell. I designated lady bugs to the odd tree in our path, leaving bread crumbs to pick up later. Spiders dropped from the ends of my hair to join the ones already on the bowlsket clutched in my arms.

Beside me, Weld carried himself with a smooth gait that could only be accomplished by a machine. The metal factor had to be the majority if not _all_ of the reason, but a part of it was the confidence he carried; it was the same type as the times I'd seen him on the battlefield. There wasn't any question that he knew his mission, and his mission was me.

Suddenly hyper-aware, my nerves flared at the metal boy beside me.

It was hard to say who was leading. We were equidistant, neither of us in front of the other and a distance between us that was telling. I had a feeling if I were to veer off course he'd follow, but for now we were in stasis.

In a way, I was glad it was him. Out of all of the Wards, Weld had to be the kindest, most respectable one. He saluted me when I fought both Leviathan and Slaughterhouse Nine, and he was willing to put aside our differences when it came to the greater good. He was the sort of hero I would've liked to have been, had I gone that route.

Curious, that Miss Militia would assign him to me. Not because he wasn't the obvious choice; he was, considering the rest of the Wards. But there was a second possible factor involved, one that could explain the Ward's behavior: his occupation as a Case 53. Did she put us together because we were the outcasts of the group?

I wasn't part of the PRT, so I didn't feel the full backlash from its fallout. As a villain I had my own problems to deal with because of it, but they were of a different nature than the heroes. I didn't have to wonder if the same teammates I fought alongside were the same people who got their powers from the mysterious, menacing Cauldron.

Weld was one of the few who were feeling the full, unadulterated trauma. He'd had a promising career, status and future that were all stolen from him in one day. And it might have been with the help of one of his former teammates.

I, on the other hand, had just been screwed over- _again-_ by the same organization a week ago. There were enough of us now that we could start a support group.

As a side objective, Miss Militia could have placed us together because she knew we were in the same boat. She might have done it in hopes of assuaging the urge to do anything rash, given the right- or wrong, depending on how you looked at it- circumstance.

I didn't know if that said worse about Weld or myself.

I cast a fraction of my attention back to the group. Everyone was in the same place as before, silent.

My bugs found a patch of dandelions and I tested the waters, leaning casually to the right. He followed. The patch was in a glade, and bundles of the weeds soon made their way into my bowlsket. Weld watched me with unwavering intensity as I worked, and unnerved, I straightened.

"If I'm not mistaken, there's a fair amount of pine needles just over there," I pointed over his shoulder. I wasn't mistaken; my ants were already working together to pile them up. "Would you mind gathering them?"

As an answer he knelt beside me, ripping out the last of the dandelions and placing them in my bowlsket for me. "After we're done over here, sure," he said.

Dedicated to his job as babysitter. Admirable, but definitely annoying.

I nodded absently, scanning the area while my swarm delivered the pine needles of their own accord. He was silent as they dropped from above, and I wondered how this would all play out. I had hoped that the group would start to be a little less tense around me, but logically I knew that was horribly unrealistic. I'd be offended if they let down their guards around me that easily, if I were being honest.

But the sooner I could erase the strangling energy that resided in our ranks, the better. And that included some action on my part.

"Do you see anything else around here?" I asked, rising.

His brow twitched the slightest bit, a quirk of his I was beginning to notice, and made a show of glancing around the area. Maybe it wasn't a show; I had to remind myself that few had the ability to map their surroundings like I did.

"Over there, yes," Weld said, pointing over my shoulder. While I had been hinting at the other patch of dandelions just behind the trees or the Douglass fir bark ripe for peeling, he was pointing at the new growths of a fern still within the glade.

They were thin shoots of green, their tips ending in spirals with baby leaves burgeoning out like hands. I was at a complete loss.

"What are they?" I asked, taking a closer look at the plant. They looked like tentacles, and I frowned.

"Ostrich fern fiddleheads. I know a guy who swears by them. He's a nature enthusiast and would probably love it out here."

I eyed the ferns with a new appraisal. "Miss Militia didn't mention them," I said slowly, hoping I didn't come across as accusatory.

He didn't look bothered by my words. "Miss Militia couldn't possibly know all of the edible plants out here." A look of faint amusement crossed his face. "The guy I know- I'd doubt he doesn't know them all off the top of his head."

I shrugged, not caring or knowing enough to argue. "Alright." I tried to wrestle them from the dirt, having to readjust my grip once they wouldn't budge. I gave them a few more fruitless yanks until Weld stepped in and uprooted the entire system.

He shook them free of excess dirt and laid them in my bowlsket while I took another scan of our surroundings. We already had more than enough greens for dinner tonight and enough for tomorrow. Miss Militia hadn't gone into depth about the medicinal herbs as she had with the edible, but she went over a few descriptions before sending us on our way. There were a few that I thought fit them, and I directed us to them.

Our path lead further into the trees, leaving the glade and easy trail behind to where the ground became increasingly covered with plant life. Movies never portrayed forests like this. They were usually unbelievably flat, or at least paved with smoother ground than the one we'd been trekking over for the past three days.

It was only made worse by my lack of shoes. My feet felt as if someone were bending them with a taffy-puller.

After a considerable walk wherein neither of us talked and the silence was thicker than words, we came upon a treasure hoard of resources. The leaves were round ovals, a plush green that accentuated the vibrant purple flowers that hung in pillowy bulbs. Sausage-like pods hung below those. The vines covered every available surface- trees, ground, rocks and what looked like the buds of a separate plant slowly crushing under its weight.

"Alkanets," Weld said in realization. The word didn't roll out of his mouth the way it did for Miss Militia's. He plucked a flower and held it between his fingertips.

I nodded. "If my memory's right, Miss Militia said that the roots were where the medicine was at, but we should try and collect a whole unit." Plus, looking at the monster of a system before us, I wasn't sure we'd be able to only extract the root.

Weld's finger elongated into a fine point that he used to swipe under the leaves, digging deep to find where the roots had latched shallowly under the dirt. I left him to one side, fixing my own attentions on a mantled tree. I had to dig my fingernails underneath the sides as some of my more applicable insects- earwigs, some beetles and cockroaches- chewed from below. They came away after a few persistent tugs.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled, and I paused to maneuver my hair into a messy bun with the beginnings of my silk sleeve. A few tendrils, slightly damp from my dip in the river, escaped and settled on my forehead. After a few attempts I gave up on fixing it, puffing them out of my eyes with lackadaisical effort.

"Want to talk?" Weld spoke, shattering the silence.

I paused in the middle of detaching some roots from the divots of the bark before consciously relaxing my muscles. The memory of our last _true_ talk came to mind, but I put it aside. I had to take steps to build the team's trust in me, even if that trust was only that I wouldn't flee at every hard question.

"About what?" I asked casually, stacking the roots in their own section of my bowlsket.

"About ourselves. We each get to ask the other one question per turn and the other has to answer it truthfully or pass, in which case they'd be asked another question until they answer." He paused, then added, "If it helps, think of it as a game."

I couldn't help but snort. Team-building tactics, or a poorly-veiled attempt at interrogating me. Either way, it had a sort of summer camp-y feel to it that wasn't helped by the fact that we were in a forest.

"Is that what you've told all your teams?" I asked, and turned to find him already watching me. There was an odd look on his face, as if he wasn't quite sure of what he was looking at.

"First question, and yes. It's actually worked pretty well in the past, but I had a member who once deflected every question till he finally answered what his favorite color was." He pressed his lips together in deliberation, clearly weighing his next few words. "It was lilac, by the way."

 _Huh._

I mulled over his words, a little pissed that I'd walked into such a blatant maneuver, but a little pleased that there was someone else besides Miss Militia who was willing to work with me. There was no doubt he had an agenda, but so did I. Maybe they were the same this time.

"Interesting," I replied. "Your turn?"

He nodded and approached, dropping his collected alkanets into my bowlsket. They spilled over the rim, and I ruefully noted his findings doubled mine. He wasn't the bragging type however, and he pointedly ignored it aside from reclaiming a few vines when it was clear they wouldn't stay put.

"Are you going to backstab us?" he asked.

So it was going to be this type of conversation.

"No," I said. "There's no point." Silver eyes drilled into my own, and I tried to convey every ounce of my honesty in our stare-off. "You've probably heard about my history with betrayal. I don't want to mess with that sort of thing ever again."

Unlike normal humans, he didn't need to breathe. His heart didn't have to beat. So as I neared the end of my explanation he simply froze, all minute movements that came with a breathing, bleeding body ceasing. For one insane moment that I blamed on the heat, I thought I had wandered into a park statue. Then the look in his eyes thawed, and I took a breath I hadn't realized I'd lost.

"Alright, I'll trust you," he said, and his chest rose with a slight, useless inhale.

It shouldn't have been that easy, by all accounts. Even I was only seventy percent sure I wouldn't wake up to find I'd been handcuffed in the middle of the night, and I was the one who _initiated_ the truce- barring Miss Militia's silent threat at our initial meeting.

Then I realized what he was playing at.

It came down to honor. Every villain had some sort of code they lived by. It didn't have to be morally good, just good by their definition. Don't kill children, protect your teammates, avoid robbing from allied gangs. The most basic of ideals, and even those were optional to a number of capes I could list off the top of my head.

I'd shown I held strong morals in the past, and he was playing on them. If it turned out I _was_ planning on betraying them, I'd have this conversation to look back on in shame and guilt. Or something of the type. He was banking an awful lot on my character and how high I held honor on my list; it wasn't as if I was meticulous about my rules like others were.

Marquis had a strict code not to kill children or women, and he never broke it despite that same code leading to his eventual imprisonment in the Birdcage. I _have_ killed, and never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted that. My tactics have also developed, and I'd shown how ruthless I was willing to be in the past. So any faith Weld had in my character was a little surprising, despite the many goods I've done.

It spoke about his sense of character that he was right.

I had been silent for too long, and he said, "They may be ex-teammates, but they're still allies. And since we're a team out here, that gives me more of a reason to smooth out any concerns I have. You understand, being a team leader yourself?"

I lifted the bowlsket and placed it under one arm. "That's more than one question," I said, but answered before he could take it back. "And I do. That's part of the reason why I'm doing _this,"_ I gestured broadly with one hand. "My team is my responsibility, and that includes their lives. If there's a way I can make them safer in this world, I'll take it. And I think this is the first step."

The sky above was bruising purple, and we had more than enough plants for at least a couple of meals. I turned and walked. A ladybug marked the first tree of our path and I headed towards it, Weld on his part hesitating just slightly before following after me. I waited until he was at my side before asking, "Can I trust that you'll have my back if there's a fight?"

He frowned and I elaborated, realizing how that sounded. "A physical one. If there's other capes out here, or any of the dangers lurking around. Another landslide, for instance," I added as an afterthought. Having some time to myself was actually nice, but I'd rather not take another tumble like that again. "If you're in a position to help me, will you?"

Weld nodded, no hesitation. "If I'm in the position to, I will."

"Good, that's all I ask."

We fell silent, and despite our talk it quickly filled with the same uncomfortable air as before. Thankfully Weld broke it before it settled too deep.

"You have one more question, you know."

I rose an eyebrow. "I do?"

"Yeah. I asked two in one row, so it's only fair."

I could think of more than a few questions, but none of the answers were my business. Instead, there was one in particular that I was surprised hadn't been brought up before. I blew another strand of hair from my face, and spoke.

* * *

Dandelion stew wasn't what I expected.

If someone asked me what I _had_ expected, I couldn't have told them. Only that it wasn't what I was currently slurping up, chewing around the leaves and chunks of rabbit. I had to bend forward to avoid spilling onto my lap again, a fact that I was only mildly disappointed with.

The spider silk had done a fine job of filling in most of the holes, but it wasn't thick enough to stop all of the water. I'd fix it as soon as I'd be able, but for now I was reduced to balancing the stew and myself on the rocky river bank.

Closer to the river sat Weld, his arm loosely sculpted into a cooking pot over our small fire. It was a crude rendering, slightly misshapen and awkward in relation to the rest of his body, but it worked. He'd looked surprised that I'd asked, but as soon as I gave him the idea he began to morph his body. Once we reached camp his arm had resembled a molten spoon. Needless to say, its current form was an improvement.

I was a little surprised myself. I would've thought the Wards would know more about their powers than capes such as myself, who had no resources except for one thinker. Granted, a very _powerful_ thinker, lest Lisa get the idea that I was slighting her, but only one. The PRT should've held international connections that would allow their own capes to have a full grasp of their capabilities.

Clockblocker hadn't known that powers increased when put under situations similar to the initial trigger event. I could maybe understand that, given that most information about powers was up in the air in terms of facts and sources. But Weld not knowing his own power's capabilities, despite them being so ingrained in his everyday life? It spoke of neglect.

I swallowed the last dregs from my bowl. The sun had set not minutes ago, and the soft light of the waxing moon illuminated our camp along with the glow from the fire. It wasn't much of a camp, if only called so because of the warm bodies and not the camp itself, but it was more than we had that morning.

Our collection of herbs was set out on the slab of bark Weld had carved out in the afternoon. Vista and Miss Militia sat across from it, their backs turned to me as they ate. The older Protectorate member was currently regaling Vista with a colorful account of her Ward days, and I listened curiously with the bugs blanketing the area.

They weren't a _literal_ blanket; that would've been a waste of resources, for one, and I doubted the team would take kind to it. Rather they were placed in odd intervals, a fly slipped in between folds of fabric or a gnat in someone's hair.

Outside of camp, insects perched in every tree and bush. I had eyes and ears within six hundred yards, and I was currently weaving sleeves with close to a thousand spiders. Starting the process had proved difficult at first, but with the beginning of one sleeve as a marker I'd found a rhythm soon enough.

"Mouse Protector had wrapped Chevalier's armor in aluminum foil…" Miss Militia was saying.

Behind the two heroes, the 'alkanets' were being plucked from the slab of bark by Clockblocker. Upon returning to camp, Miss Militia informed us that they were in fact _not_ alkanets, but akebia. An herb that, while it couldn't be used for cough expectorants, was useful in soothing the liver and treating skin inflammation among other uses.

Like stimulating lactation or menstruation.

The boys- barring Weld- wanted nothing to do with the herbs. While Miss Militia assured them that they were entirely consumable and no lasting effects would remain, they seemed keen on avoiding the stuff like the plague. Which I assumed was the reason she assigned Clockblocker the task of washing them.

I bit back the smirk that fought to consume my face, though a look at my reflection off the soup proved my efforts futile. I retaliated by downing the rest in one tilt, and stood to rinse off my bowlsket.

I crossed paths with Clockblocker as I made my way down to the river, but he didn't acknowledge me. I was fine with that; disregard was something I'd take any day over verbal onslaught.

The pebbles crunched under foot as I leaned over the river, and goosebumps prickled my skin from the frozen water. While I had survived the nights twice already, temperatures seemed to be lowering and our proximity with the water amplified it.

"…forget to eat, man," Clockblocker said about thirty feet away. He shoved a bowl of soup into Kid Win's hands, clapped him on the back and left.

I checked up on my spiders' weaving patterns and bounced a few ideas back and forth, though I already knew there was nothing to make them weave faster. I could add more to the thousand, but I had others saving their silk for emergencies. My comfort, unfortunately, didn't fall under that category.

My bug blankets could only do so much before nature won out. I didn't think we'd get a freak snow storm or anything, but hypothermia didn't need something so extreme. It only needed a body to set in, slip under the skin as if it were tucking itself in for bed.

I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking I could manage on my own for much longer. Maybe if I had a few more resources, or at least more _time,_ but the quickest and most apparent solution was extra body heat.

I shivered, and decided to hell with it.

I shook my bowlsket free of water and left as Miss Militia and Vista replaced their masks and began to head down the bank. Our resident tinker sat furthest from the group, valiantly trying his best at tinkering by the moonlight.

I didn't look to see him sigh in frustration. Instead, I made a beeline for the fire.

Weld's face was hard to make out underneath the flickering light. I sat across from him, flames breaching our distance in an un-crossable bridge. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on my arms, soaking up the warmth with a euphoric sigh.

It had been one hell of a day, and I was glad it was almost over. As much progress as I'd made today, I needed some reprieve.

Clockblocker drew near the fire, remaining silent as he parked himself to the side of Weld. The metal boy probably radiated as much heat as the fire, and Clockblocker left noticeable space between them. But he was next to him all the same.

I closed my eyes. For now, it was time to rest.

Finding solace in the thought, I stretched myself out on the pebbles. And it was to the soft crackle of burning wood that I drifted off, hovering between the stages of consciousness and the electrifying remains of a dream.

I was jolted wide awake in what felt like only seconds later, though I absently noted the dying embers of where the fire used to be. Confused as to what could have woken me, I steadied my breathing and turned to my swarm.

My spiders had made considerable headway on my sleeves from where they were stationed in one of the nearby trees. A family of raccoons prowled in the dark, hardly any cause for concern.

There only cause for concern was one missing Miss Militia, but Weld was present, patrolling our small camp by the river and within talking distance, and I seriously doubted he would miss her absence. She had to have been patrolling further out. How she managed _that_ without dozing off during the day, I had no idea. Some secondary power? Enhanced stamina, perhaps?

Upon reaching the conclusion that sleep was beyond reach despite my exhaustion and a walk would be better than nothing, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Weld asked. He was a few yards away, his body half-facing the tree line.

"Yeah, I'm just going to stroll for a bit," I told him, voice lowered in consideration for the others. They weren't particularly close, but it was the thought that counted.

Without my prescription or the benefit of daylight I couldn't make out his expression, but I imagined it was heroically stern. "We need to stick together," he said.

What if I had to go to the bathroom? Would he be so keen on 'sticking together' then?

"Where's Miss Militia?" I asked in way of answer, but to his credit he didn't pause before responding.

"On patrol further out," he said. "How about you walk with me? We don't need to talk."

The way he was blatantly trying to reign me in felt vaguely condescending, and I almost turned him down if only for the sake of argument. _But olive branch,_ I reminded myself for what had to be the umpteenth time _. You wanted this._

I rose, joints creaking like old wood, then stopped. One of my spiders at the edge of my range had felt something further down, a vibration linked to its web that I had strung up while Weld and I were collecting herbs. Whatever had snapped the string wasn't in my range.

It could have been anything. This was a forest with all sorts of creepy crawlies and things that went bump in the night. For all I knew, it could have been Miss Militia.

"I'm fine with that," I said to Weld, then registered another vibration through the webs. This time it was felt by nearly a dozen spiders spaced out along separate strands. The backlash was so strong that it was akin to a pistol whip against my spiders, and they were flung into the wind by the demolished strings.

"Skitter?" Weld asked, and there was a slight edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. He'd noticed my change in demeanor.

"I-" I began.

Then I _felt it._

As Miss Militia came crashing into my range at a dead sprint, one hand firing a gun over her shoulder and the other clamped over her side, the words were already leaving my mouth.

"Wake up! Enemy approaching!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I've seen some concerns others have raised on different websites (the thought has blown my mind) that I will address.**

 **1\. This is not a cross-over.**

 **2\. More has changed than you think.**

 **I was hoping with that quick flash back that you can see how Taylor's scars have adjusted and fixed canon- the walker maneuver from the path, but the path widens to fit the walker's shoes. Things have changed, but the stations of canon have caused the outcomes to more or less be the same. More, and greater examples to come.**

 **A quick clarification of dates:**

 **July 14th: Simurgh arrives that morning- Ch. 1, 2**

 **July 15th: Taylor and Heroes wake up in forest (unconscious all of the 14th) Ch. 3**

 **July 16th: Taylor removes mask, landslide occurs- Ch. 4**

 **July 17th: Follow second stream, awk questions are awk- Ch. 5 & 6**

 **This chapter is by far the largest thing I've ever published as a "chapter" at+12,700 words. I thought about cutting it off somewhere at the midway-point, but it didn't seem right. So, Drako90451, I guess you got your wish. The downside is that I only have 2,500 words written of the next chapter, I'm starting a new job, I've been promoted to editor of a newspaper and I'm a full-time student. My life is busy. I don't know how good I'll be at sticking to my two-week schedule, but I'm going to keep on trying.**

 **Some of you have been asking for an interlude, and I have a few ideas about who the first one will be. But I'm curious: Who would you want?**


	7. Cumulus 1-7

**A/N:**

 **Hey, sorry this is a little later in the day. There's still an hour of Thursday left where I'm at, so does it still count?**

 **Over much deliberation, I've decided to change Taylor's age back to canon. I admit it was a poorly thought-out adjustment simply because it held no importance on the plot and I only changed it to reflect how I originally saw her. After publishing this I'm going to edit chapter one's notes. Sorry for the trouble.**

 **In other news, thanks for all of your support! It's overwhelmingly cool to see how those numbers have risen since posting this story. Your support means a lot.**

* * *

The wind was cold, _biting_ , and it ripped past my ears as I tore through the forest. Any other time I'd connect the sensation to flight, perhaps enjoy the rush of freedom that followed with the air, but not now.

Along with the wind came fists of leaves and branches. I was not made for the forest. Twigs snapped under my feet and scraped against my arms and legs, whacking my torso when I didn't dodge gracefully enough. But I pushed forward.

As soon as I'd shouted, I had already been halfway to the tree line. Now I was running towards something that had _Miss Militia_ turning tail, and it was unsurprisingly deft at carving its own path through the forest. Whatever it was, it was fast. Unbelievably so.

I had only been able to get a handful of bugs to stay on its skin. It wasn't so much its speed as it was its grace. Despite its cumbersome size it moved with a fluidity that dancers would kill for.

 _Hell,_ I'd _kill for it._ Forests were a bitch to run through.

From what I gathered it had four legs, was the size of a van and bare as a babe. No fur, only skin. I hurled masses of insects in front of it to block its vision, but it only reacted by barreling through. The bugs that managed to stick couldn't break skin.

My spiders were working double time, caterpillars working their own silk in as well with fliers lugging them above ground. The creature was too fast for me to tie it while it ran, so I worked on setting a trap for it a hundred yards away and approaching.

I directed a handful of fliers to Miss Militia's costume and had all of them crawl to her right side, save for one dragonfly in the middle of her forehead. It had to be uncomfortable, but to her credit she didn't swipe it away.

Back at the camp, Kid Win and Vista were currently running alongside the river. For having been dead asleep not moments before, they were as alert as if they'd been up for hours.

Remaining just where I'd left him, Clockblocker stood at the ready just outside the tree line. Ahead of him Weld ran, and I left him arrows in case he couldn't read my path of destruction. He cut through the forest in the way only a brute could do: effortlessly. I wasn't sure why I'd thought he'd need the safest path, so I corrected my arrows to a plain straight-shot. He adjusted accordingly, and I slid to a stop, nearly catapulting myself into my own trap.

I had my silk sleeves in my hands, both arms about an inch in length combined, and I added them to the rapidly growing barrier of spider silk tied between a pair of boulders. I reinforced the strings through roots underground, pulling them up into tree tops and branches. Then I retreated. It was silent, safe for my panting breaths and the light crackle of thousands of insects as they weaved under the moonlight.

A hard edge dug into my side. I belatedly unattached my mask from where it was latched on my lanyard, donned it, and waited.

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait for long.

The ground rumbled as they came into view, though I didn't risk peeking my head out of where I was hiding, baton at the ready. While I doubted I'd be able to use the baton better than Miss Militia could apply her entire arsenal, it was better than nothing. Not for the first time I wished I had my gun.

For all the gravity of the situation, I had expected something more dramatic _, louder,_ but the only sound added to the area was Miss Militia's huffing and the pound of feet against ground.

I had the dragonfly on Miss Militia's forehead scurry to her right eyebrow, and she turned accordingly. They were only ten yards away, and I tensed.

 _Now!_

The dragonfly zipped from her face and took a sharp left. She reacted by literally throwing herself to the side and recovering in a somersault, made more impressive by the mounted gun already formed in her grasp upon rise.

I had no time to appreciate it, though, as her pursuer collided with my wall of silk. While there wasn't much in the way of the wall, the creature's weight propelled my trap to the next stage and the hundreds of thousands of tiny silk strings placed in specific intervals counteracted the added force and adjusted by swinging forward, flipping into a hammock for a split second.

During its momentary capacitation I let loose the flurry of bugs I'd been hoarding, and every nook and cranny of the… _thing_ was explored. Within a split second I had mapped every inch of its body, and with my own eyes I roamed its dark form by the scattered light through the treetops.

Seeing is believing, or so they say.

It was a cliché that I had nonetheless found much reliability in over the past few months. After all, there was a truth in every saying, one that formed a base sturdy enough to uphold the phrase as long as it remained in use.

Let it mean something that I believed less now than I did before.

Its skin was a marbled black streaked with the color of dried blood under streams of pulsing violets. There was no telling which way was up or down, its body shaped like an irregular, lumpy heart.

Its back legs were frog-like, jutting out of its sides like a crab's but having the characteristic adhesive disks that enabled tree frogs to climb vertical surfaces. The front legs were grotesque in their spindly points, with forearms so thin I had to wonder how they didn't break under the effort of stopping.

And upon everything else, I didn't find a single characteristic that resembled a nose or a mouth, ears or eyes or genital. For all intents and purposes, this creature had no weakness.

There was a word for beings like this. _Monster._

As soon as the word entered my mind, the silk snapped along with the trees holding it in place. It dropped to the ground, hard.

Nevertheless, I carried on with my assault, backing away towards Miss Militia while my bugs ravaged it. Tried to, at least.

"Ears!" Miss Militia shouted, and then the forest ignited into a war zone. Shot after shot was fired, a jarring cacophony of fireless explosions that left my chest feeling like it was about to crush under. My hands did nothing to muffle the sound.

She switched between a number of weapons in a dizzying rotation of green, alternating between bullet and arrow, steel and filed points of stone. I could only keep track of a portion of her arsenal, but I noted she avoided anything that would give off fire.

The monster's back rippled, and then it stomped its legs about in what I'd describe as a child's tantrum. It froze, and a sense of blinding horror flooded me.

 _Hysteria. Despair. Ruin._

I gaped soundlessly, trying to regain my senses as pure fury rolled from it in waves. Then as sudden as the feeling grabbed hold of me, it left

In a spin, the monster neatly adjusted its grip on the standing trees till it stood 'upright', toes wrapped firmly around the trunks and front legs drooping out before its body, and faced me.

 _Well, shit._

This time it was Miss Militia who shot off like a rocket, a small dagger forming at her hip while I followed. I scattered my swarm into several clones and had them run off in pairs, but the monster paid them no mind. Its target was us.

A rope-like tendril, fleshy and warm wrapped around my ankle and jerked me off my feet. I must have made some sort of noise above the ringing in my ears because Miss Militia whipped out a shotgun and aimed past my leg, letting off several rounds until the grip on my leg loosened.

I scrambled to put some space between me and _it,_ and she grabbed me by the arm and dragged till I got my feet under me. We ran wildly through the night air. I sputtered as something warm trickled from my nose, down my lips and chin. Faintly, I realized I'd broken it.

She held out her left arm before darting to the left, and I barely avoiding kissing the dirt a second time when I tried the same. I was fit, toned from months of activity, but I hadn't had the chance to practice much in the way of obstacle courses and it was showing now.

The monster followed close behind. Over my pounding heartbeat I heard the slight bend of wood as its back legs pushed off of the trees. I hadn't noticed before, but despite its speed and size there was no destruction in its wake. It was almost gentle, the way it clasped each tree in its path to twist itself through tight spaces.

We were already using that to our advantage. The path we carved lead deeper into the woods, where the trees stood a little steeper and broader. Further back the monster slowed its gait. I wouldn't call it an act of hesitance as I had trouble believing it would feel something so human, but there was definitely a pause before it continued after us.

Weld was about a minute away, following my direction while I tried to follow Miss Militia's. Her movements were erratic. She changed directions at the last second to skid low beneath a branch, digging her heel into the dirt to right herself. I bypassed that maneuver entirely and had to swing over a fallen log, rejoining her side after a moment of blindness. The lack of vision was not on my part.

It was as though every star in the sky winked out of existence. A blanket of darkness shrouded us, thick and sedated. Blinding.

Something like Brian's power? I frowned. It wasn't a cloud of shadow like his own- that would imply an additional factor. Rather, it was an absence.

The world sapped of light.

It didn't bother me in the slightest; I never thought I'd be thankful for those days spent blind, but they'd given me a full crash-course on fights in the dark. But for all of Miss Militia's experience, there wasn't much you could do to prepare for a full-fledged flight through a pitch black forest.

Without considering the potential ramifications, I grabbed her by the wrist and took lead. Heat radiated off her tense body, but she followed along, and I tugged her through the best paths I could find that would hamper the monster but allow her to keep her footing.

I wasn't sure I was doing a great job. More than once she fumbled in her steps, and if it weren't for her quick reflexes the two of us would be sprawled on the ground.

The monster remained in hot pursuit. Not as fast as before, but at the speed we were going it would catch up soon.

Absurdly, what bothered me the most was its silence. There was none of Crawler's roaring challenge or Lung's furious bellows, both of whom I could comfortably call monsters at their worst.

My foot slid on loose dirt and I hissed. The terrain was growing increasingly rough, and I had to adjust my footing several times to avoid tripping. The insects on the ground guided me, but it was a maze of turns and twists made all the more difficult by an essentially blind partner. I could lead us in the direction of Weld… But that would involve backtracking.

I was about to do just that, lose our cover but gain footing, when I registered a small burrow not far away. I redoubled my efforts, tugging Miss Militia along till we reached the mouth.

She fidgeted as if aching to run. If our positions were switched, I'd be dying to know what was going on as well. But though the monster didn't have ears and was tracking us just as well as if it did, it felt wrong to speak. Instead, I pushed her towards the hole and guided her in with my bugs and squeezed in beside her. It was a tight fit, and I wasn't certain it would work, but I shifted my swarm over us to cover the opening.

I was banking on its demonstrated care with the plants to hide from its reach. It wasn't the greatest idea I'd ever had, but our avenues were limited and our distraction was in preparation.

There was an abundance of spider nests and worms, and I covered us in them in hopes their tiny bodies would help mask whatever the monster was using to track us. Miss Militia tensed, and I suspected she was burying the instinct to shoot me in the face.

The lack of space didn't hamper the monster as much as I had hoped, but as I followed it its strides gradually died down until it stopped completely at the edge of the slope. I waited with stale air in my lungs.

The thin ropes of silk I'd placed near the dip in ground were attached to branches at least twenty yards away. Some broken trees would have to distract it going by its earlier show.

 _Go, go, go,_ I chanted.

My stomach plummeted when it simply forewent the ground, its front legs tucking beneath its belly while the back ones carried its weight through the tree tops. It climbed through the trees with the same skill it demonstrated on ground, but its distended body belied its seamless grace.

Now that I wasn't running, the smaller details were filtering in. Flesh jiggled with every step, though it didn't feel like fat. The best way I could describe it was a bowl of water, no solid matter and yet missing the _liquid_ part. Unable to be punctured, but not fluid.

And as I took in its form, its dance through the treetops to where we were hidden away, my bugs crawled over a new shape forming from its hide.

A human face.

Buried under skin pulled tight as plastic wrap, its mouth hung ajar in a silent scream. The face rotated slightly as if it were floating in a cup of soup, and with that shift a half dozen other faces rose to the surface.

Men, women. Children. At the rise of an infant's I pulled back, breathed deep and set my swarm on them. Though the skin was tight as though fit to burst, its hide was as impenetrable as before.

 _Did it eat them?_

I gripped my baton white-knuckled, and a large, cold metal object formed into existence between Miss Militia and I.

The monster climbed down the hill. Leaves fell like raindrops, and the creaking protests of wood carried through the trees. It was as though the world had been reduced to our small burrow and the darkness around us, the sound of wind replaced by the husks of our breath.

The creaking stopped, and the indomitable gut-reaction at something _other_ rose.

It was above us.

A bead of sweat rolled along my spine, and I prepared to rise and launch myself when the monster recoiled. It climbed back the way it came, disappearing up the hill.

For a second I thought I'd blacked out in some stress-induced fantasy and was about to be crushed by the nightmare fodder hanging over our heads, but it had truly left. Gone, as if we had been a passing fancy that was replaced by more interesting pursuits.

We remained in the burrow long after it passed the fifty-yard mark, and only when Miss Militia shifted did I remember she was there. I exited slowly, as if the monster could form out of thin air while my bugs marked it travelling along the forest floor, and then turned to direct her out of the burrow.

She accepted my hand as long as it took for her to gain footing, then released it in favor of shouldering the bazooka she had formed while we were under. Neither of us spoke. I think we were a little beyond words at the moment.

Weld barreled his way into our neck of the forest and I relaxed, something I never thought I'd do at the arrival of another hero. He stopped at the edge of the hill, silent and assessing as his head rotated on his neck.

I almost called up to him using my voice. _"We're down here,"_ I said through a gathering of insects instead.

He tensed, and it occurred to me he probably didn't have much in the way of vision either. Nevertheless, he stepped forward as if to climb down, and I stopped him. _"Wait there."_

A drop of sweat slid down my brow and dropped to my collarbone, tracing the curved skin down past the jutted edge of chitin armor.

I spoke for Miss Militia's benefit, "Weld is up the hill." My voice came out nasally, clogged.

She nodded and didn't argue when I took her by the arm and lead her up the hill, carefully now that we weren't running for our lives.

I remained silent as the monster stalked out of my range. We had a lot to discuss.

* * *

The thing with adrenaline was though it gave you faster reflexes and allowed you to do what you normally couldn't, it also blurred the reality of the moment. It made situations seem more dangerous than they were, made the body tense and heart thrum in a heady argument until the person dropped or moved.

So it wasn't much of a surprise to find the return back to camp smoother than the escape from it. The ground was hardly as tangled as it felt before, and we made it back with relative ease.

Weld had refrained from speaking as we walked. There was undoubtedly a group meeting in the immediate future, so there wasn't a need to ask for the details. Still, his patience was commendable.

I occupied myself with collecting the torn shreds of my silk, noting in slight dismay that it would take me a good part of the day to weave it back into something usable. But really, I didn't have much to complain about. It was more than I had before.

The moon was a welcome sight once we finally exited the forest, and the rest of the group stirred at our arrival. Vista and Kid Win were shined in sweat, shimmering in the low light. Clockblocker sat cross-legged on the pebbled shore, muttering low to them. I could only assume he'd stayed behind as a last defense for the two invalids of the group.

He straightened as we joined them. "What happened?"

I looked to Miss Militia in turn with everyone else. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, a sheen of sweat visible on every inch of skin, and she stank of exertion. Her eyes blazed with energy withstanding.

"We're not alone out here," she said.

Kid Win shifted, his armor providing a dull clack against the pebbled ground.

"I was on patrol about half a mile out when it appeared. There was no warning, sound. Only a feeling."

"A feeling?" Weld asked. Like the rest of us he leaned forward.

"That I was being watched," she said after a moment, and continued. "It came from above, and immediately tried to pin me. It has… for lack of a better word, _tendrils_ from all over its body as far as I can tell."

"And they're warm," I added. The group turned to me, and in the darkness I couldn't make out their faces. "Like human skin."

Miss Militia nodded. "Except it's as durable as any brute. I'd rate it an 8, at least. None of my munition penetrated it hide, barring explosives."

"So we're up against tentacles?" Clockblocker asked.

"No," Miss Militia and I answered as one. We paused a moment at the other, and a second passed where no one spoke.

"Not just tentacles," Miss Militia said. "It has legs as well. The body looked to be the size of…"

She described it in full detail to the rest while I added my own bits. I'd finally drawn a rough image out of my bugs and depicted it crawling through the trees, but I failed it recreate its graceful stride.

A snake of dreary red trailed over the horizon by the time we finished. _Red sky in morning, sailor's warning,_ I recited. The night had fled, and though dawn approached comfort alluded me.

"There's been cases like this before," Miss Militia finished. "A trigger event gone awry, or…" It was clear whom she was referring to.

Weld sat still and straight, his face carefully blank when he answered our looks. "There are some Case 53's unfit for the field. Some are kept in captivity for their own safety and other's."

"That didn't sound like a Case 53 to me," Clockblocker interjected. His body had taken a stilted hold, as if all he was balanced on the point of a blade.

It didn't strike me as one, either. If anything, it was most similar to Echidna- Noelle. But she had had the remnants of humanity left in her. That _thing-_

A mural of faces pressing against flesh.

-wasn't human. Never had been.

But then where did that bring us? The Endbringers? It hadn't displayed their insatiable bloodthirst, had left when it could have pursued.

A frown tugged at my lips.

"We're not on Earth Bet anymore, are we?" It was Kid Win who broke our silence. There was no telling who the question was directed to. It might as well have been all of us, or none.

My suspicions from yesterday held nothing against the cold truth. I'd suspected it, we all had, but to hear it said out loud? Nothing could have prepared me for it.

Clockblocker placed a hand on Kid Win's shoulder.

"Let's not rule anything out until there's _definitive_ proof," Miss Militia assured.

"What's the plan?" I cut in. We were tearing apart. The true weight of our predicament had just settled in and we needed something to ground us. "It's morning, the-"

 _Monster_.

"-creature is out of my range, and we have ground to cover. What's the next move?"

Miss Militia fixed me with assessing eyes. "Fixing your nose."

Oh. That's right, my nose was broken. In its own twisted revenge, the pain returned full-force upon recognition and I winced, crackling dried blood.

Removing my mask was a bit surreal. I'd walked around- for how many days now? Two?- without one already, and it wasn't like they didn't already know my identity. But the act of it along with witnesses who didn't bother hiding their stares made the gesture hold a certain weight.

Miss Militia placed both hands over my nose, and without warning pressed. A hiss escaped my teeth and I saw stars. _Could've warned me,_ I longed to say, but I bit my tongue. The surprise had helped in a way.

Turning to the rest of the group, she said, "We rest, then move."

With that, she stood, brushed herself off and left for the river. The air was still chilled with dregs of night, but she looked beyond bother. Weld didn't budge.

"How the hell are we supposed to sleep?" Clockblocker muttered under his breath. He stood and left us with the crunch of his footsteps.

Kid Win was grabbed by Vista before he could fold out his tool kit, and they left in the direction of Clockblocker to gather in a semi-huddle against the morning light. Vista passed out before any of them.

Her face nuzzled into the crook of her arm, small body curling smaller, and for just a moment I contemplated the world we lived in, came from, where a girl so young could be torn from her family and thrown into a war started before she was ever a thought. How fitting it was, that she'd be thrown into another world, too.

I rubbed my face _. Damn._ Exhaustion created poets.

Miss Militia finished up at the river and kept her patrol around the edges of camp. A strand of akebia was held in her hand, and she slipped bites in under her scarf with her back facing me.

As for me, I found my discarded bowlsket by the remains of our fire, laid myself in the same spot I'd woken in, and thought of another sky.

Against my mind's best efforts, my body eventually succumbed to exhaustion.

I woke with the same feel a washed t-shirt might have. Refreshed, but with the added sensation of being tossed around in a dryer with someone's old sneakers thrown in the mix. The sun hung high in mid-noon.

Vista and Miss Militia bathed down the river out of eyesight, and Clockblocker sluggishly moved through the final knots of his water filter up the bank. I didn't need my bugs to know what Kid Win was doing.

I sat up and stretched, popping my lower spine. A wade through the river was in order.

Weld stood in the middle of it, staring intently at the water below. He suddenly thrust an arm into the water, emerging with a fish speared on his sharpened finger. It joined its drying brethren on the bank where Weld began to descale them, the little flecks of silvers setting off his skin like freckles.

He nodded as I approached.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning," I said. "No trouble while we were out?"

He shook his head, finishing up a fish. Its scale-less body hugged the sunlight, and I felt oddly repelled despite having seen worse. Weld whacked its head off with a deciding blow.

"None. It may be the daylight, though. I'm keeping my eyes peeled." He looked up. "Do you sense anything?"

"I'll let you know if I do."

Silence fell between us, punctuated with the light sprinkle of fish parts. Group dynamics, a whole other species of battle.

I took my leave and strolled upstream, away from the bloody bits of brunch. I didn't bother removing anything besides my mask and lanyard and dunked my whole self in, lingering long enough for pressure to build in my head.

Once it had become unbearable, I emerged for a cleansing breath that curled my lungs into fists. Today was a new day, brand _spanking_ new which meant that anything could happen.

Good or bad, facing the sun with a spine of steel was the only way to go about it.

That turned out to by my motto for the entire day and the next as Miss Militia had us travelling down the river. On the sixth day of our wandering, the steel in my spine had turned brittle. It was no less strong, but there was an edge to it now.

My new position at Miss Militia's side, monitoring our front and back did nothing to alleviate my nerves. For all we'd wandered, civilization eluded us. The forest served as a constant reminder of our predicament on all sides. If mountains had faces, I'd imagine they would be smirking at us from over the trees.

The only difference to our surroundings was the river. The current had grown strong and rough, enough that it warranted hesitation to go more than mid-calve deep, and that measurement was shrinking with every break.

We were breaking right now, and I already had my bowlsket at the ready. I'd reinforced it over the two days and had a twin atop my head. The rest produced their own copies, admittedly better than my own.

Arts and crafts were never my thing.

We took our turns placing our bowls at the mouth of our water filter, Weld holding it in place against the current threatened to carry it away.

Soon I wouldn't be able to even _walk_ in the water, lest Weld was willing to hold my hand. I had a feeling he would enjoy that as much as I would.

I wiped a bead of sweat out of my eye. If there was one thing I could count as a blessing, it was having no identity to protect. I was free to unmask at any point, a perk being applied full-heartedly.

Above us, the sun hung high in the late morning. Clockblocker's hand strayed to his head as if he wanted to brush his hair back.

At least his teammates had their hair exposed, including Miss Militia who had it messily braided to the side. The idea of wearing a helmet in this heat, days-old sweat built up along its edges had me almost pitying him. Then I remembered his 'reaction test' and found that I could enjoy his misery a little longer.

The heat wasn't all bad. We had walked under the cover of the trees instead of the open view of the river. But the terrain had been growing rougher, which laid out a future of digging further into the forest or testing our chances by the river in plain sight.

When it came to Vista's turn, her hands shook to the point that I feared she'd lose her bowl. Weld reached out to steady her hand, and she flinched.

The camp froze. What had been general silence was now the kind that preceded a fight. It wasn't really my place to be, having no relations to either outside of fighting, so I awkwardly focused my attention on drinking.

I didn't have to wait long for someone to move. Weld slowly released Vista's hand, a hesitant smile on his face. She didn't return it. Bowl half-filled, she got to her feet and briskly walked to the tree line.

"Vista," Clockblocker said. She didn't turn, and he started after her. _"Vista."_

The two disappeared into the forest, leaving the rest of us in the same batch of quiet. Weld remained in the river, one hand curled around the water filter, the other hanging at his side. Our resident tinker had abandoned his work entirely to stare off in the direction of the trees.

Miss Militia cleared her throat. "Skitter, would you mind gathering some more herbs? We're running low."

I glanced down at the 'community' basket, a larger, rougher version of Miss Militia's own bowl. It was still being made, and through its gaps I could see our supplies were definitely _not_ running low.

I swished the water in my mouth, focusing on its curl through my teeth. With a swallow I replied, "Not at all."

Of course, I mused as I strode in the opposite direction of where Clockblocker and Vista had run off to, this meant Weld had to leave as well.

The boy in question passed me on the way.

Turned out, having someone made of metal lead the way made travel incredibly easy. He wasn't wasting his time picking through the greenery but instead tore his way through, leaving a nice little path for me to follow from afar.

While I trailed after, jogging to keep up when he tore ahead a little too far, I kept note of our surroundings. It almost physically pained me to pass up the abundance of dandelions and ostrich ferns, but I didn't stop for fear of falling back. About the equivalent of three city blocks away sat Clockblocker and Vista, and I deliberately kept from concentrating on their words. While I was curious, it wasn't my place. The bugs stayed, though.

Abruptly, Weld stopped in his tracks. Nothing was in my range to have made him stop, so this was something else. Should I approach, or wait for his action?

At his side, his fingers twitched.

It wasn't a hard choice to make. This sort of Weld was uncharted territory. I diverted my attention between watching him and scouting for any edible plants I recognized.

Once I'd settled on ripping up random plants in the hopes that Miss Militia could identify them later, he moved. I tensed, swarm massing of their own accord thankfully out of sight, but all he did was move to the nearest tree and slice its bark in thin vertical strips.

I did a double take, then: "There's poison ivy on that."

He looked up as if just noticing me. "What?"

"Poison ivy. Once the urushiol oil touches something, it can stay on the surface for up to five years."

Freshman year I did a report on a cape in the Midwest who created a substance similar to the oil poison ivy secreted. Luckily, their version had nowhere near the lasting power. Out of every other useful bit of info I had gleamed, that was that one that had stuck.

Weld dropped the strips of bark after a moment of examination. "I'm covered in it now, aren't I?"

I nodded.

"And I'll have to wash off in the river before collecting anything else to avoid contamination."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

An unreadable expression flitted past his face. His body remained perfectly still, fingers loose in the picture of absolute calm, but something told me it was a facade.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer if we didn't head back just yet," I said, voice carefully neutral. "There's plenty else out here I can collect, if you'd be fine with keeping watch."

As if I needed him to be. I already had eyes and ears within three hundred yards. If anything out of the ordinary appeared, I'd be the first to know.

He knew what I was doing, and there was a moment where the light filtering through the trees danced across his face in hand splatters. His nod sent them scattering. "Sounds great," he replied.

Okay. For lack of conversational skills, I rose and passed him, careful not to brush against his skin or the tree. My lead was plainly slower than his own, but he didn't complain and the lag didn't bother me. Remaining with the group had built up some tension in my muscles that was only now releasing, which was, needless to say, relaxing. I was still ready to bolt at any sign of danger, but at the moment I could almost trick myself into believing this was simply a walk in the woods.

Back at camp, Miss Militia and Kid Win walked alongside the river. Sections of his armor had been removed and were laid out on the pebbled ground.

"So," Weld said after we'd been walking a good few minutes. I hadn't stopped for foraging once. At first I thought he was going to call me on it, but then he said, "Would you care for some conversation?"

I spared a look over my shoulder at him while stepping over a loose rock. Absently, I delivered a handful of pine needles to my bowlsket by dragonflies overhead. "Not at all. What did you have in mind?" I'd be damned if I were to start it.

"Did you like the ostrich fern fiddleheads?"

Safe topic. "A little, yeah. They were a little bitter, but I think with some butter they'd be really good."

Of course, when Clockblocker had learned that it wasn't by Miss Militia's instructions but Weld's when we'd first brought back the fiddleheads, he had replied, _"I'll eat them, but if we die it's on you."_

Deciding to go out on a limb, I asked, "Who told you about them, anyway?"

He mulled over his response while I stopped us at a patch of pineapple-weed. I was halfway through picking when he answered. "Director Armstrong from Boston. He's a nature enthusiast. For as long as I was stationed there, he'd take time out of his schedule to go on his weekend hike."

I nodded thoughtfully. Director Armstrong sounded like the polar opposite of Piggot. "Did you ever go with?" If he had, that would place his experience out here higher than mine.

I received a professional smile in response. "That's two questions. Who taught you how to cook?"

So we were playing _that_ game? "My mom," I answered.

I hadn't really cooked; Miss Militia put me in charge of food because I didn't have to move to fetch it for the most part. Most of the time it was Miss Militia cooking or even Clockblocker turning the meat, but every so often I'd add a pine needle or dandelion leaf for better taste. A bit surprising that he'd gleamed my skill from something so small. That, or he was being presumptuous.

Thankfully, he didn't comment. Enough people had given me condolences at the start, and people from my territory- enemies, too, if Miss Militia's words from a week ago were any sign- had started to look at me differently.

He'd probably read about her death in one of the many articles written about me. That, or read enough in my body language to read between the lines.

Impulsively I added, "But my dad knew his way around lasagna. Have you ever hiked before this?"

I finished up with the pineapple weeds and paused at the approach of an animal in my range. Long, slender legs with cloven hoofs and dewclaws. It was a deer. Assured, I turned towards Weld who hadn't answered my question.

His focus was beyond me. "With Director Armstrong, yes. During the summer he schedules a week off. We used to disappear into the woods while I was still stationed there. With our own pots and pans," he added.

Belatedly, I noticed I'd reverted into past tense. I wetted my chapped lips.

His eyes darted to mine. "Could you tell me about the monster once more?"

Thankful, I nodded and relayed what I had told the group before. I guess it was a little screwed up that I'd rather recount the details of a creature straight from a horror movie instead of my personal life, but whatever. We may be in a truce, but I meant it when I said we didn't need a group therapy session.

He nodded thoughtfully with a frown. I paused and added, "I didn't see a Cauldron mark on it from what I could make out."

He regarded me with silver eyes. At first I received no response, and for a second I thought I'd said the wrong thing. But as I lead us a little deeper into the woods, the berry bush I'd had my eye on since it appeared in my range made me push that worry to the side.

When it came into view, 'pleased' didn't cover what I felt. Huckleberries had been my mom's favorite. Growing up, dessert had usually consisted of pies, ice cream or biscuits and jam. It was her fix, medicine that left me with a purple mouth more often than not.

There had still been an unopen jar of huckleberry jam the last time I was home.

But now I was feeling sentimental in light of events, and we needed food. Especially something sweet and familiar. I kneeled and plucked them, mindful of the thorns.

Only when Weld said, "You like your berries?" did I realize my mouth was stretched in a small grin. I smoothed my features, but not before he added, "I'm fond of blueberries myself."

Mildly curious if only because as far as I knew he didn't need to eat, I inquired, "Oh?"

"Yeah," he said, surveying the area. "Did you ever see that Earth Aleph movie-"

Clockblocker and Vista were heading back to camp. From the way his arm clapped her on the back, I took it she was in a better mood.

"-with the little orange men in the chocolate factory? One of the characters, Violet, a girl, turned into a giant blueberry."

 _What the hell?_

"I don't think so," I replied for loss of a better response. Violet splotches stained my hands, and I rubbed them off on my pants.

He shrugged. "It's not bad. Anyways, I like the color."

I was struck for a moment how boring this conversation was, yet it didn't bother me. For the first time in a long time, small talk wasn't a chore.

A comfortable silence fell over us as I finished up with the berries. I popped one in my mouth, satisfied.

Miss Militia and Kid Win returned from the river with something held between the two of them. It was solid wood, planks held together with nails and the surface covered in dirt and muck.

They rubbed away the grime coating the front until flakes of paint were exposed, and they pulled back, silent.

"…town nearby," Miss Militia spoke.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Next chapter wraps up this arc, and that's when things are going to start heating up. U** **nfortunately, depending on how you look at it, my new job starts next week and my schedule looks insane. I have no idea how much time I'll be able to devote to this story, but I won't abandon it. I'm going to try my absolute best to keep pumping out chapters at the same rate I've been doing to keep myself accountable and you guys happy, but know that I might disappear for a while to crawl back to my former pace.**

 **I'm moving this timeline to my profile page:**

 **July 14th: Simurgh arrives that morning- Ch. 1, 2**

 **July 15th: Taylor and Heroes wake up in forest (unconscious all of the 14th)- Ch. 3**

 **July 16th: Taylor removes mask, landslide occurs- Ch. 4**

 **July 17th: Follow second stream, awk questions are awk- Ch. 5 & 6**

 **July 18th: Early morning chase. Travel through forest- Ch. 7**

 **July 19th: Traveled all day (glossed over in story)- Ch. 7**

 **July 20th: Group dynamics are changing, Taylor and Weld's small talk- Ch. 7**


	8. 1-x Interlude

**A/N:**

 **Thanks to GMM for pointing out a mistake!**

 **My word, you guys. I finished writing this chapter this morning, and now it's time for homework. I'm going to try my best to meet the next deadline, but chapters may be shorter in the future. This one maxed out at a little over 5k.**

* * *

Vista sat on the edge of a boulder worn by the elements, warm from the sun. Her shoe scuffed against the dirt with a kick and scattered dust to the air.

She was so… _mad,_ and there were too many names on the list. She was angry at everyone and everything in the world, half of the reasons unidentifiable.

She knew the other half just fine.

They were treating her like she was a toddler who couldn't walk or feed herself. If Dennis or Chris were in her shape, they wouldn't be coddled half as much as she was being.

A scowl crawled over her face. _I'm not a fucking child._ The swearing helped.

Another kick at the dirt produced a compact cloud of dust, and she blinked hard, embarrassed. She wasn't even well enough to curve it away.

Her scalp seared itched with a sunburn. Lines ached across her face from where it was frozen in a grim case. Her legs and arms were sore from walking all day and sleeping on hard ground, but none of it compared to her head.

She'd only experienced something like it two years back as a rookie. One miscalculation had cost her days in the infirmary, blacked out by narcotics and a dim room reserved for thinker migraines.

Maybe she couldn't blame her team for worrying just a little. She still remembered her reflection those two years ago. It had been by accident, walking past the bathroom mirror on the way to bed, but despite the dim light she stood out like chalk on a blackboard. Her skin had been white as a sheet, her eyes sunken in and blond hair affray. She avoided her reflection for a week after that.

But she'd come this far; she had fought against Leviathan, Slaughterhouse Nine, Echidna and the Simurgh and _survived._ There was no excuse for how people treated her for her age. And she had no excuse for being as incapacitated as she was. She needed to do more, _be_ more for her team.

It was what Dean would have done, and it was what Weld had-

She squeezed her eyes shut. That was a train of thought she didn't want to ride.

"Vista!"

Her best attempts at composure were erased as Dennis's footsteps crashed behind her. She barely stopped the instinct to stretch the distance, instead turned away. She knew the moment he entered the clearing by the gust of his breath.

"Hey," he greeted. He sounded cautious, like she was about to swing a punch. If she were able to she might've.

She didn't respond, and he drew closer.

She was struck by how gross they both smelled and wished not for the first time for some soap. The costume was the last thing she wanted to be wearing at the moment. It was crusty and rank, despite her best attempts at washing it out in the river.

She didn't want to imagine how Dennis was faring. It was obvious that he wanted to remove his helmet. He'd always been one for fidgeting, one hand constantly running through his hair or stroking his chin.

She wanted to as well, though her visor wasn't nearly as constricting.

A large crack decorated its front and painted the world under a giant spider web, the connotations of which she wasn't fond of.

"Talk to me?"

When she remained silent, he scooted himself onto the boulder beside her. His elbow bumped into her arm and jostled her, stirring up the migraine that was already stewing in the back of her mind.

She drew in a sharp breath and he recoiled, muttering, "Sorry. Sorry for everything. I- Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."

"You can't fix everything."

He shrugged. "I have superpowers, don't I? They've got to be good for something."

Though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling. It was most definitely self-deprecating, bitter in a way all of them were these days, but it was a smile she didn't have.

"Missy?" he pushed softly.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

In that moment, his name made it to the top of her list.

"You're a _boy_. And older than me," she hissed.

She wasn't oblivious to the facts. There were Wards her age both male and female across the country, and she'd gotten to meet them at a few trainings with the other teams. But the boys were expected to be tougher, sturdier despite their powers, and no one balked at the idea of them 'manning' up.

New Orleans had Trucker, a twelve-year-old tinker. Seattle had Vexis, eleven and a mover/shaker to boot. Phoenix had Lion Bite, _ten,_ and he was the youngest brute on the West coast. All of them were male, and all of them were allowed more hours of patrol then she was. Only after Leviathan hit the Bay did she exceed their patrol hours.

Of course, they had to buddy-patrol like she did because they were underage, but that didn't change the facts. Being a stereotypical blond haired, blue-eyed little girl had painted her into being the child everyone wanted to see, not the soldier she was. Even Miss Militia had faced some obstacles in her career at first for being a woman, and Battery had told her some stories as well.

Dennis froze, and for a moment Vista thought she had finally gotten someone else to understand. But then he spoke, clearly uncomfortable. "Is this…uh, is this a conversation for Miss Militia?"

For a moment she didn't understand. Then, "What?" she squeaked. Her ears lit up in a bright red.

He didn't answer, presumably from the last shreds of sense lingering in his ginger head.

"No," she filled the silence. "Gross, _no._ "

He rose his hands in placation. "Okay, sorry, that's just what it sounded like. And something clearly pissed you off back there, so I thought-" he cleared his throat. "Never mind. But you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm serious."

She considered his words.

"I hate this."

Her voice crept on a dry whisper. The confession pried the board loose, and the words poured out like spiders from eggs.

"I hate being… _weak._ In my body, in my emotions. To the _group._ I haven't contributed a single thing aside from body heat and an empty stomach."

A stairway conversation came to mind, a girl and a boy talking about regrets and a dead crush. She'd told him he couldn't let anger consume him, but now it was so hard to take her own words to heart. What had happened to her control? Her calm?

Her voice shook as she continued. "And I'm so angry. I don't even know at what, just- _everything._ That the Simurgh brought us here, that Miss Militia won't admit that we're stranded on another world. That I might not see my family again-"

"I'm scared, too," he whispered, breaking her away from where her thoughts had gone. He drew his legs up to perch his head on his knees. "And I'm still angry, so I guess there's that."

Vista chewed the inside of her cheek.

She knew Dennis had blamed himself over Aegis' death. None of them could have prevented it, the boy being a casualty in a fight between Purity and Hookwolf days after the E88 fallout and just days before Leviathan's arrival. He'd been on patrol in the area and hadn't hesitated to jump in to save the citizens and PRT officers caught up in the blasts.

But Dennis was supposed to be scheduled for patrol that day as well, except a 'family emergency' had risen up and left Carlos on his own out in the field. It wasn't supposed to have mattered.

It had been rumored, later discovered to be true that Purity's kids had been targeted by neighboring gangs at the PRT safe house. No one knew who it was; the Merchants, straggling ABB members or Coil. The only villains in the clear had been the Undersiders and Travelers, but given what was revealed about their boss, nothing was sure now.

Only that once the building had been discovered, it was obliterated. Bodies irretrievable.

Purity had snapped. She went on a rampage against her former gang that was curbed only by the unified efforts of the Protectorate and surviving members of the E88.

Kaiser had been the first to die. Hookwolf didn't last long, and most of the other members had been caught or surrendered. Vista didn't bother with the details at the moment.

It was only really the death of a Ward that pulled Purity back. In a way, Aegis was a martyr. He had been lucky; no one was going to benefit from her death in this forest.

"Me, too," she whispered.

"You're angry at Weld, right?" He didn't give her a chance to respond. "You've been angry at him since the day the Simurgh came. The ride over, the day we woke up. Every moment after you've been avoiding him."

"So?" she asked. She knew what the point was, just wanted to prolong it. _Stop being a baby._

"So, why?"

"I thought you didn't like him," she replied.

That wasn't true. Dennis and Weld had been getting along just fine before the Echidna fight. He didn't bother with answering.

She gave in. "He didn't say goodbye."

It sounded just as dumb out loud as it did in her mind. She winced. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten attached, and it wasn't as if he _died._ But-" she cut herself off, then forced the words out. "But he left without a word."

 _People are expendable._ It was an elementary concept, and the past months should have prepared her for any farewell both planned and out of the blue. But this was when she had finally found someone who understood her. Who knew what she was going through, looked her in the eye and still gave her the order to fight.

And then he left without so much as a word.

 _Maybe it's my fault._

She had been the first one to be caught by Echidna; things might not have escalated the way they had if she hadn't been caught. Logically she knew it would have escalated anyway, but that didn't keep the thought from resurfacing.

"He had to, you know."

She looked at him. His faceless mask, blank without internal power lighting up its design bored into her own. "There wasn't a place for him in the Wards _or_ the Protectorate. Staying even a day longer? He didn't have a choice. Imagine being in his place."

She had, and did.

"He probably would've returned with a few words after several weeks of cooling down. Hell, I'd say he was on his way to do that when the Simurgh came, else he wouldn't have been in the area. But I don't blame him for wanting to escape in the wake of all that."

"I know. And I- I'm not really mad at him anymore. I haven't been for a while."

The only reason she'd reacted the way she had at the river was because she was so _fed up_ with being treated differently. She felt like a jerk. Vista's face lit up with something more than a sunburn. It was her job to be the heart of the team, and she failed in that, too.

"Hey," he touched her lightly on the arm. "It's okay to be angry. In fact, it'd be pretty weird if you weren't at least a little bit, given the circumstances. A pretty wise young lady once told me that herself, you know. And you know what they say about wise young ladies..."

"I don't."

"Fuck it, me neither. I was hoping to come up with something clever while I was saying it, but I'm too damn tired."

Vista couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips. Dennis stretched, and she heard his shoulders crack with the movement. She imagined a grin playing on his pale features. But then he hunched forward slightly, and she knew it had left.

"Don't worry so much, alright?" he said.

 _Hypocrite,_ she thought, for he was the one who worried the most. "I won't."

"No, I'm being serious."

Vista had to bite her tongue from saying something rude. "So am I. But you need to promise me something as well."

He looked up. "What?"

"Stop messing with Skitter."

She hadn't been around either times he'd spoken to the villain, but according to Chris, both conversations had been pretty intense. The last thing she wanted was to wake up with bugs crawling down her throat. Dennis should've been the first one to agree with that statement given his own experience at her hand.

"Already on it," he said. It was a little deceptive how easy he'd agreed, but it sounded sincere. "I got what I wanted, anyway."

He clapped her on the back and stood, and a cloud rolled across the sun, giving a slight reprieve from the heat.

"What was that?" she asked, and followed after him as he led the way back to camp.

He looked over his shoulder. "An answer. Now come on, we should get back before the others start worrying."

She obediently trudged after, and for once his slower pace didn't bother her.

"Do you think we're Simurghed?" she asked between breaths.

He slowed down further after hearing her voice.

"Dunno. But I do know that Miss Militia doesn't think so, and there's nothing we can do by worrying over it. Besides," he said, turning fully so he was walking backwards. "The Simurgh might have teleported us here _because_ she couldn't mind-fuck us."

The question had been asked out of mild curiosity, not worry. The way Vista saw it, there was no use bothering over the future when tomorrow wasn't assured.

With that thought to mull over, she shrugged, and the topic was dropped.

When they reached camp, Miss Militia and Chris were crouched over something. It threw her off guard to see Chris occupied with something else beside his tinker tech.

Weld's and Skitter's absence didn't go past her.

They approached, and Chris was the first to look up at their arrival. His face was practically split in half by a wide smile.

"We found a sign," he said in greeting.

"Of what?" Dennis spoke first. She was already kneeling down to examine what looked like a slab of clay. It took some effort, but once she stopped wobbling she reached forward and brushed off its surface.

Chris wasn't talking about a _symbolic_ sign. She gasped just as Miss Militia spoke. "Given that it's downstream, we're going to have to backtrack."

Despite her words, she sounded pleased. No wonder. Dennis leaned in to get a better look, though judging by his silence he already knew what it said.

 _LEAVENWORTH._

They all knew the town name. Piggot used to have a postcard of the town in her office. It had been the proverbial flower in the desert in a room of business, the only personal item displayed. None of them knew the reason for it or how it pertained to the former director, but Vista didn't care in the slightest.

They were still home.

 _What are the chances?_ she wondered.

"…technology, and tools and _energy,_ hell, I could finish prepares within a day once we make it there," Chris was saying. It was refreshing to hear his voice. He hadn't said so many words strung together since the first day they landed.

"We don't know how far we are," Miss Militia cautioned. "For all we know, it could be weeks trekking back. And the town could be on the opposite side of the river."

"Sure," he replied, but he didn't sound the least bit deterred.

Dennis hadn't said a word.

He straightened slowly with a turn, and walked away calmly. Miss Militia furrowed her brow at his back, but her words were drowned out when he whooped, arms lifted above his head in triumph. He jumped, fists pumping in the air, and Vista startled herself with a laugh.

Miss Militia smiled in return, eyes softening, and Chris ran to join Dennis in their half-flail, half-dance celebration. If anyone saw Vista wipe a tear from her face, no one mentioned it.

"What's going on?"

Vista straightened at the question. Skitter and Weld exited the trees, the latter of which she carefully avoided meeting eyes with.

"We found a town sign in the river," Miss Militia answered, changing moods in a coin flip. The boys straightened themselves out.

"Seriously?" Weld asked, stepping forward to get a look for himself. Skitter remained silent, and Vista took a moment to assess the older girl.

Despite having had one of the larger cities in the country under her thumb, she looked… _small._ She was a giant compared to other girls, but her body was thin enough that it was almost the same build as her own.

Not to mention the same lack of a chest, if the wonky breast plating was anything to go by.

Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, stray frizz collecting around her face and giving it a wild look. She seemed unbothered by the mess, peering through it without a problem, and Vista imagined the black cloud forming into a swarm of insects.

"Wow," Weld said after a moment. "I mean, wow."

Skitter's eyes remained unchanged as they scanned the sign over. "We should switch sides."

"What?" Clockblocker asked.

"Of the river," she amended. "We've been walking for days on one side, might as well see what's on the other side of the forest. It might keep the… _thing_ away as well."

Weld shot her a calculating look at that, but she didn't act as if she noticed.

"I agree," Miss Militia said. "But we'll only cross once the current is stable, no sooner."

Skitter nodded. "Of course."

Vista watched the exchange in silence. Though Skitter stood without a mask, metaphorically bare to the world, she held herself as if her costume wasn't in shreds and her face wasn't as worn as the rest of theirs were.

Vista envied her for that.

Miss Militia sighed, sending a gust of air that lightly disturbed her own face rag. "With that, let's continue on. Unless any of you need more of a rest…?" she trailed off, and Vista ignored the bite of annoyance that followed.

The rest shook their heads, Vista following the motion without hesitation. The movement stirred up her migraine and sent the world spinning under a spider crack, but she clenched her jaw and got over it.

And then they were off.

* * *

The light of the monitor poured onto the desk below. It was harsh, and burned a face that hadn't seen daylight for the better part of the week.

Bags that could rival one of her purses from her former life decorated her eyes, and weighed down her gaze like an anvil from an old cartoon. Clicking her tongue, she complied impatiently with the urge to look.

 _Varicose veins likely to develop in old age._ Lovely.

The carpet below her bare feet was thin, and the cold from the floor below seeped through her skin till it met bones. It didn't bother her. She hadn't been warm for five days, almost six. A glance at the clock on her desk confirmed the latter guess.

The clock shown on the news channel was incorrect. It was a recording from two days ago, four days after the Simurgh had descended.

She absently chewed her chapped lip, and twiddled with the pen in her hand.

 _Made in China. Light. Almost out of ink-_

Her teeth clenched, and a flake of dried skin tore off her lips. _Focus,_ she berated. Though her migraine had left, it was always touch and go after a few days of being indisposed. Her thought processes tended to follow the tracks of a runaway train.

The voice of a newscaster, over-pronounced with no traces of regionalism, spoke over the footage of a stage at the Brockton Bay PRT building.

 _"_ _Earlier today, White House representative Sheryl Broche restored former Mayor Rory Christner to his position as mayor of Brockton Bay in response to recent events."_

She had seen the clip multiple times, though nothing she gathered from it had changed since the first time.

 _Double breasted jacket suggests compensation. Borrowed? Lines on her face are from stress. Not family-related, job-related. Money- lack of it. In someone's pocket, paid under the table._

 _Orders from above._

The narrative disappeared, and the camera focused on Mayor Christner at the front of a podium. He did not look well.

She scribbled down some notes, her other fingers drumming fervently against the desktop with nothing to occupy themselves with. Above her, the sound of creaking floor boards was a stale echo of the past four days. In retrospect, she shouldn't have been so surprised to find Rachel at her doorstep, but she had been.

The girl had arrived with her dogs, just two of them- Bastard and Bentley- and had sparked immediate response from Coil's ex-mercenaries who had thankfully lead her to the back rooms before anyone that mattered could see her.

Rachel had arrived today the same way she did every other: pacing like a caged animal, and quiet save for the patter of feet. She didn't come downstairs to visit. She never did.

 _"_ _I thank you all for coming here today,"_ the mayor said in the recording. _"It hasn't been easy these past few days, but this city is used to that. Brockton Bay has weathered Endbringers, murderers. We've survived under the supposed reign of villains. We've outlasted gangs whose roots were decades deep."_

He paused.

 _Pause is not entirely theatrical._

She already knew this, and cut off the tide of information.

 _"_ _You, Brockton Bay, should know better than anyone that this season will pass. With every hardship comes experience and adaptability. Our city will rise again."_ Something under his face shifted, and he adopted a new tone. Hopeful.

 _"_ _For those who wait, good things shall come to them,"_ he gestured from behind the podium. She allowed her eyes to follow the movement to where they rested on an assortment of capes.

Flechette and the newly-converted Fulla, her costume a pale pink that complimented her counterpart. She looked nigh-unrecognizable from either of her past costumes. The Victorian dress was replaced by a tight suit with a short skirt that flared down to her mid-thigh. She was entirely covered, save for the sliver of dark lips that peeked out from her half-mask. Black hair poured over her shoulder in a braid.

It was a shame, but Parian had never been a full member of the Undersiders. It had been no surprise when she left.

Beside the two stood Triumph and Assault and Battery, as well as Crucible and an assortment of out-of-town capes. Dragon and Defiant in armor as bright as gems in the afternoon sun stood on either side of the stage like gods among men.

It was a show of strength, a promise of force against any daring enough to take advantage of the chaos the Simurgh had wrought.

 _"_ _I will let this image speak for itself,"_ the mayor said, and paused once more as if the world hadn't been staring behind him the entire time.

She let her eyes wander towards the mayor as he spoke. His face was drawn taut, as if all his strength were peeling away at every word. If she were a normal citizen, it would be a little daunting to see the face of the city as worn as its streets.

Good thing she wasn't.

The wooden chair slid across the carpet when she stood, and a thread from where a splinter had caught hold was pulled from the weave. Her ears remained with the TV while her eyes roamed a bulletin board, the notebook on the desk long-forgotten.

 _Nervous. Doesn't hold faith in current position. Wants out._

Ominous, but she didn't need her power to know that. She pushed past it, lingering on the bulletin board. When it became clear there was nothing else, she rewound the recording and set her eyes on an adjacent whiteboard. Her fingers hesitated by a single yellow string before relenting, relocating it to another point before rewinding the tape and moving on to a whiteboard decorated with blue lettering, then a board backed with black construction paper.

Once the allotted time had run out for the recording she clicked her tongue twice, paused the video and took a step back. Her nose tickled from where a strand of hair had fallen out of its tie and she roughly brushed it back, huffing irritably.

There was something she was missing. Something beyond the obvious, insignificantly small but _crucial_ , and it was screwing with her mind. Her tongue traced the inside divots of the two faint curves etched into her cheeks, a permanent grin curtesy of the man destined to end a world in two years.

It had become a habit that she'd acquired once Grue had healed her up, but now it was a sort of tick she meant to curb but never got around to.

In a way, she was glad for them. They kept her smiling when no one else was.

 _"_ _And now I will turn over the stand to a most renown cape who needs no introduction,"_ the Mayor finished on camera.

She skimmed over her notes while the recording played in the background. Her fingers dragged over a few words, lingering on one date.

July 14th: Simurgh drops. One hundred killed, six taken. Local civilians killed? Transported à same place?

WHERE?

The last line was underlined numerous times, connected to a file labeled 'Labyrinth'.

Without looking, she knew the exact moment the tickertape at the bottom of the screen read, _"Officials in the joint PRT-BBPD investigation have ruled Director James Tagg's death as suicide. Cause is rumored to be Simurgh-related PTSD…"_

 _Definitely not suicide._ That particular tidbit was already covered in strings and adhesive notes.

Unaware of the message streaming below them, a black and grey figure stepped forwards from the group of heroes.

 _"_ _I'm honored to be serving in the shoes of heroes young and old, powered and unpowered. I've heard only the highest of compliments for the Brockton Bay Protectorate and Wards. I personally knew Miss Militia, a true hero who pursued justice for the unjust, and a voice for those too quiet to hear. Let not our presence be a replacement, but a reminder of all they stood for."_

Pause. Mind streaming with relayed information, the room was silent save for the scratch of pen against paper. She pressed 'play' once more.

The best way to create a mystery was to go backwards, and the same went for solving it. Rolling her neck and shoulders, she diverted her attention to past notes.

They had to be cleared of several layers of papers tacked to the board. Once uncovered, she was hit with a sense of nostalgia despite the fact they were less than half a year old.

May 6th: E88 compromised. S kept grounded. R dogs moved.

May 8th: Orders remain to be grounded. S restless. C adamant.

May 9th: Theo and Aster Anders dead? Building destroyed C. S injured on site but intact. Suspects, uncertain. Leaving? Keep contact.

May 10th: Purity vs. Everyone. One casualty. (What is gain? Loss?) File 39xi7T A.

May 15th: Leviathan. File 54dFT B.

June 5th: S takes control of BW. C impressed? Deemed valuable asset FTM.

Too far back. Frowning, she replaced a layer. Amongst the mess, an innocuous stylized 'c' could be found beside a line, sometimes accentuated with a question mark, other times left blank, telling in its standalone script.

July 8th: Taylor compromised. Tagg in lead Who pressured who? File 1Jki98.

 _Part of a whole, pyramid structure._

On the board, she moved another string.

Pushed out of sight but not out of mind, a fifth board rested against the wall on the ground, turned so as not to gather attention from any unwelcome visitors should something unfortunate happen.

There was no title. Its grey surface was crossed with over forty different strings of five different colors. Doctors, nurses, lead detectives and higher up officials faded in and out of the mess, photos linked and labelled with names and dates.

For someone who went above and beyond at concealing their scars, Taylor had inadvertently shown them to a lot of people. Most of them were in the pocket of one of her own fake aliases, one in the Birdcage, but a few were dead. Not at her own hand, obviously. One death was due to natural causes, but the rest were the product of gang skirmishes and the fact that the city had faced two S level threats.

Death was to be expected these days.

 _"_ _While the Triumvirate has disbanded, our first and foremost duty is to the people. Therefore, while I am no longer with the Protectorate, consider me no different as before. I am only here to serve."_

Alexandria stepped back from the podium to the applause of the cloud. It had been a short, passionate albeit formal speech, and the faces of the citizens were lighter than they had been in days.

Finally coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing more to be found at the moment, she clicked her remote.

The light in the room flickered as her other monitor came to life. _'Former Triumvirate member Legend remains out of public eye…"_ announced a sterile voice.

In the reflection of the board, a nugatory movement coincided with the announcer's voice.

She stopped, hand frozen over a string. Cocking her head, she turned and paused the second screen in one fluid step.

The dashed questions of reporters filled the air in pockets from the first recording. A Chinese-made, out-of-ink pen fell to the carpeted floor.

 _Oh._

As if velvet curtains lining a grand stage drew open and actors spilled forth for Act 1, she saw it.

And Tattletale grinned.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thus ends Arc: Cumulus.**

 **I was a little wary with this one because some of you asked for no interlude or advised against it, but I've had these two in mind for a while. Especially Vista's. There was a ton of foreshadowing in this as well as some little canon changes sprinkled through. Those will be touched on as the story progresses.**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts and predictions! Next chapter marks the beginning of Arc 2: Cumulonimbus.**


	9. Cumulonimbus 2-1

**A/N:**

 **Hey guys. I have no idea how I made this happen. It's about a thousand words shorter than normal, but I'm genuinely surprised at how much I was able to type. A little update on my life: I've been promoted to Managing Editor-Print of the college newspaper, and it looks like I'm going to be a freelancer for the local newspaper, so that's pretty neat.**

 **A good hour or so writing this was to thunderstorm/wind sounds, which now that I've discovered, are pretty amazing. You should check them out if you ever need something to sleep/study/concentrate to.**

 **Thanks for all of your reviews/faves/follows! Your support is my sustenance.**

* * *

The clouds had rolled in by the droves not three hours after finding the sign. Kid Win's face was in an ongoing battle between smiling and suppressing said smile. His mood was light enough that he engaged Miss Militia in some light conversation, her own face soft from the healing wound on her forehead. It was closing lightly, probably wouldn't scar.

I could almost believe things were starting to look up for us.

But something deep within me, something deep and _instinctual_ told me that this newfound hope was a farce. I knew what I had seen two days before, and it wasn't anything I'd seen on Earth Bet.

So, what? Were we on Earth Aleph? I knew that world had some urban legends like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, but nothing covered a tumor-like frog with baby faces poking out of the sides.

 _Could use Tattletale about now._ It wasn't the first time I missed my team, and it damn sure wouldn't be the last.

"…soap, we'll finally be able to shower. I don't think I've ever been more eager to bathe," Kid Win was saying. I had a cricket placed between his gauntlets. Miss Militia said something in return, caught my eye and nodded ever so slightly. Surprised, I returned it.

"It was okay as a movie, but the book was better in my opinion," Weld said, apropos of nothing.

"Huh?" I said brilliantly.

"'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,'" Weld replied. "The book was actually published on our Earth, too. 1964. There was an older version of the movie in 1971, but I only saw the more recent one from Aleph."

 _Oh._ He was continuing our conversation from before, with the berries and the blueberry girl.

"I think I remember seeing the book as a kid," I said, thinking back. Now that he mentioned it, I vaguely remembered seeing the book in my elementary school library. I had never read it, and from his description I regretted nothing. "You like to read?"

"From time to time," he replied with a frown.

 _Great. The one person willing talk to me, and I've already offended him._

"I was a reader myself," I added, hoping the information would satisfy the 'trade'. Speaking with Weld was proving to be one large transaction. The conversations followed the saying 'an eye for an eye', and I respected that. But I wasn't sure how I felt about sharing so much of my personal life.

Granted, most of the important bits were already circulating the news back home. What I was sharing now was inconsequential compared to that.

"Was?" Weld asked.

I shrugged. "Am. There hasn't been much downtime in past months. I don't even know what I'd read."

My bugs sensed a shift in the wind above. A cool breeze was picking up.

"I can agree with that," he said. "What I've seen in just the last month is enough to beat down any of my old horror novels."

Miss Militia and Kid Win were still lightly conversing in front, but Vista and Clockblocker quietly followed us. In more than one way.

Weld carried on, either not noticing or caring. "I used to love 'The Fog', but now…"

I knew what he was referencing. The novel by James Herbert where a deadly, homicidal/suicidal-inducing fog envelops its victims. I remembered my mom assigning it to her literature class for an analysis behind the symbolism of the fog and its potential representation of the darker sides of society.

I could see how certain events would ruin the book.

"But like you said, there hasn't been much time to read lately. I've had to make do with the occasional audio book, or a song or two between moving around," he continued. "Such is the price for change."

In front, Miss Militia adjusted her belt. "Do you think there'll be any resident tinkers?" Kid Win asked her.

The wind reached us as I mulled over his words, and gooseflesh rose on my arms. The sun was cloaked by the clouds still rolling in.

"Yeah," I said. "It comes down to what you're willing to fight for, and nothing's cheap. There's always some sort of sacrifice."

Weld nodded, and our impromptu conversation ended. I wanted to ask what _that_ was all about, but refrained. Silence was golden, especially when it made it look like you actually knew what you were doing.

A drop of something wet splashed on my arm. Startled, I looked at Weld and saw water droplets slowly collecting on his body.

It was raining? But it had been sunny not five minutes ago.

As if in petty retaliation against the thought, the heavens opened up and dumped buckets of water with newfound passion.

Someone cursed, and Miss Militia's weapon switched to a tiny sheathed dagger on her hip. I ducked my head. _Shit._ I was barely clothed. My silk sleeves were little more than halfway up my forearm.

I shivered against the sudden onslaught of rain as it pounded harder on my skin, bouncing off in little splashes. Weld was producing an interesting array of light tings and clanks as the water rebounded off him at different angles.

We hurried into the trees for some semblance of shelter. "Stay in file!" Miss Militia shouted over the downpour.

I could hardly see at this point. What had once been a clear, blue sky was now resembling a can of gray paint. The only time it had rained this badly was when Leviathan arrived.

Weld peeled bark from the trees as I donned my mask. Vista huddled under the makeshift board for our herbs, Clockblocker freezing it in place.

"You can't make an umbrella?" I asked Miss Militia. "I mean, I get it isn't a conventional weapon, but I could definitely use it as one."

She wrapped one of our cooked rabbits up in leaves, not pausing as she answered, "No. Believe me, I've tried."

I frowned, but Weld returned with the bark peels. They were slightly heavy and not nearly as manageable as an umbrella, but it was better than nothing.

"I'll take that off your hands," Weld said, gesturing to my bowlsket filled with our herbs.

Guess he didn't need to worry about rusting. I handed it over gladly in exchange.

Though my vision was improved with my lens, I couldn't make out his face as the rain rushed over them. My bugs were being pounded by the droplets. The closest ones swarmed to me, tucking themselves into the folds of my clothes.

"We're sticking to the trees for now! Stay together!" Miss Militia shouted back to us. I gave her a thumbs up, and we plodded along, gritted teeth, silent mouths.

There was no room for discussion above the noise. The rain came at all sides, disregarding our makeshift covers. Rain drops were reaching places that shouldn't be reached.

The ground was swiftly reduced to a mudslide in less than five minutes.

I was thoroughly soaked, and so were my bugs. I had my surviving fliers in the burrows of trees. The only life thriving in the storm were worms and larvae, and a few dogged beetles rapidly disappearing.

My legs were covered in mud, arms as well, though I had no recollection of when that happened. I shivered, teeth chattering. We couldn't do this much longer.

There was a wet, gritty sound as Kid Win sunk into the ground. _"Fuck,"_ he hissed. He struggled to right himself, his left foot sunk in the mud and the ground refusing to hold up his other. Weld stabbed his way over with elongated legs, having been the first to sink into the mud.

"We need to get out of this rain!" Clockblocker yelled from the back. Beside him, Vista's front resembled the ground below our feet.

"Skitter, can you sense anything?" Miss Militia called.

"Give me a minute!" I stretched out my worms. They only registered more water, and any hidey-holes we found would be drowned by the time we reached them. No caves in reach.

We needed to get to the other side of the river, currents be damned. I was about to respond with my finds when something _vibrated._

" _Fuck._ We need to run!" I shouted, startling everyone. "Mudslide!"

That's what it looked like to be, at least. Something large enough to shake the ground was pounding its way towards us, and with the terrain we'd hiked over in the past few days, I was willing to bet my money on another slide.

"What?" Clockblocker had begun to say, but Miss Militia cut in.

"How close?" She advanced, and I could see her veins standing out against the thinner flesh below her eyes.

"Enough," I breathed.

I wasn't an expert on mudslides, but I knew we weren't going to last if we remained in this spot. We needed to get as far away as possible.

As a collective person we turned to face the river through the trees. It had flooded up its banks and was building into a rapid by the second. The ground at our feet had at least an inch of water streaming over it.

I had to give them credit. Maybe it was because I'd be as screwed as them if I were wrong, or that we were just as screwed either way. But no one argued as we stumbled to the tree line, breaking free just as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky.

I tossed my bark slab to Clockblocker, but he swatted it away.

 _You pick now of all times for a fight?_ "Clockblocker!" I shouted, but he shook his head.

"There's no telling how long my power will last!" he replied.

 _That's right._ And barring Weld, none of us could survive a fall in that current.

Every bug I had safely hidden away erupted in a black cloud raining silk. Once one end was wrapped around several trees on our side, I had the rapidly receding cloud ferry the silk to the other end of the river. Only several hundred bugs remained once the line was secure.

Miss Militia tested the line by leaning her entire weight on it, noting how the height didn't budge. "Alright! We're taking turns. Weld, you're the ferry! Vista, you're with me!"

He nodded, tossing me my bowlsket and stepping into the river. Despite his added height, the water came up to his mid-thigh.

Miss Militia crouched low for Vista to climb on her back, and once the girl's arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders I stepped forward with one of my silk sleeves. I couldn't place the look Vista gave me as I tied her hands together at the wrist, but Miss Militia didn't object.

Once I was finished, she stepped into the water with both hands gripping the line, Weld holding one hand over hers. It was slow work, and I clenched my fists. We were losing time.

Miles away, the first river had overflowed as well, except it was a good thirty feet above our elevation with gained momentum. I could feel the vibrations through my bugs. It wasn't in my range yet, but we only had a minute or two at most until it came crashing over us. I was leaning towards a minute as another lightning bolt lit up the sky, this time closer than before. We had yet to face the eye of the storm.

Towards the end of the crossing, it was touch and go when Weld disappeared beneath the water for a millisecond, the sand below him presumably swept away. His head bobbed up with the next wave, and I released a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

With Miss Militia and Vista safely on the other side, their forms blurry amidst the curtain of rain, Weld began to wade back.

"You're next!" Clockblocker shouted, looking past me. I could barely make out his words without my swarm, but somehow Kid Win heard and shook his head vigorously.

" _No._ They need you over there more than me right now." His mouth was set in a hard line. "Don't be stupid."

"Kid, don't fight me on this!" Lightning flashed across the sky in synch with Clockblocker's words, a scar of white across the blackened sky, clouds festering like oozing sores. Weld reached the bank and waited expectantly, waves rolling over his body.

Kid Win shook his head once more. "Seriously, I'll go after you!"

I heard a rumble in the distance.

"Hell, I'll go-" I interrupted, but then Weld's arm snaked around Clockblocker's waist and yanked him into the water.

The boy grunted in surprise but let himself be manhandled through the water, belatedly grasping the cord of spider silk once he adjusted to the current.

Kid Win rubbed his hands together, fidgeting. Water streamed down his armor, and his hair was plastered to his forehead like a second skin. Why hadn't he removed his armor?

I debated speaking to him, but I didn't know what I'd say. Offer some consolation? Reassurance? _The topic of weather had never been more appropriate,_ I thought dryly.

By the time Weld returned, the river was up to his head though he stood on the bank. He slowly rose from the water, his shoulders looking a little smaller than normal. Converting mass to his lower body for a stronger base.

Kid Win clutched the spider silk with both hands, easing himself into the river. Weld had him by the shoulders and was just about to lead him away when the majority of my bugs wiped out at the border of my range.

The mudslide would be upon us in seconds.

"Wait!"

With my line in both hands, I dropped into the river and was almost swept away. My mind dropped into white fuzz at the chill, and I almost let go in shock. Weld was there within the second, grabbing my wrist while switching his grip on Kid Win to the forearm.

He yelled, but I couldn't make out his words over the rush of water. Instead I screamed back, " _Run!"_

Over the din of the river and thunder, the static in my ears and the pounding of raindrops, a great roar sounded through the trees.

Weld's eyes widened, and my arm almost tore from its socket as he yanked me and Kid Win along. My legs thrashed uselessly behind me, trying to help move us along. I coughed as water poured up my nose and stopped my efforts, allowing myself to be dragged like a rag doll.

It was a fight to keep my head above water despite keeping one hand on the line. Kid Win had the same problem. He sputtered a mouthful of water as another wave rushed over his head.

Weld carved through without stopping. His grip on my wrist was bruising. Kid Win was dunked back under, this time without having the chance to take a breath, and with my mind made up I let go of the line.

I had expected it, but the sheer force of the water was enough to leave me disoriented for a second. But without giving myself the chance to be swallowed up by it, I grasped blindly with my hand. Smooth metal grazed my fingertips but darted out of reach before I could get a better grip. _Damn._

Something hard grazed past my side, and a bit of air squeezed past my lips when I tried to suppress a gasp. Trees had begun to collapse in the river and were now sailing past us.

I stretched my neck to the surface and gained a brief reprieve before I was forced back under, but I found Kid Win's hand on the first try. I clutched it tightly and _pulled,_ using Weld's grip on my own wrist to leverage us up.

Despite the armor, he weighed no more than an ordinary teenage boy, if a little heavier accounting for the extra weight. Tinkertech.

But this was still a teenage boy in a rapid, and the effort left my muscles burning in strain. Air bubbles funneled out of my mouth but I continued to lift. I was helped along as Kid Win slowly came aware of what I was trying to do, and together we reached blindly above surface.

I was knocked to the side as another branch crashed into me. Kid Win was pulled along with the movement, and Weld tilted back as at least three hundred pounds fought against him. There was a moment I feared all three of us were going to be swept away, but he recovered.

Our hands finally brushed the string, and in an awkward half fold of our wrists we managed to anchor ourselves, pulling up with combined effort while Weld pulled in front.

I coughed, heaving large gulps of air into my mouth while Kid Win did the same. I inhaled almost as much water as I did air, and I could swear my lungs were halfway up my throat, but at least I could breathe.

I didn't have much time for anything else.

The bugs I had left in the burrows of trees were blotted out of existence. The slide had reached us.

Above us, the sky had darkened in the few seconds we'd been under. I couldn't see past a few feet in front of me, but the worms on the other side of the river registered movement as Miss Militia and Vista ran. Clockblocker stayed behind.

Kid Win flew overhead with the pull of Weld's arm, and the boy went sailing through the air. Weld yanked me forwards to repeat the maneuver but didn't get the chance.

Mounds of earth railed over us.

* * *

 _May 15_ _th_

The constant beep of hundreds of out-of-synch heart monitors and the clamor of thousands of voices were as loud and clear as thoughts, but all that reached me was the sound of rain.

Under a roof and out of the fight, I became aware of the lesser sensations underneath the pall of adrenaline and fear.

I was thirsty. My eyes felt curiously dry, and I blinked when they started to cloud over once more. The smell of blood and brine wafted from my body. Turning my face to the side didn't help.

What also didn't help was the fact that I didn't know a _thing_ of what was happening. The shackle weighing down my arm was reminder enough. The lack of sensation in my lower extremities was, too.

I sighed through my nose. The nurse was long gone with the offer of a phone call, and none of the Undersiders were in the hospital to my knowledge. I'd basically told Tattletale that my leave was a done deal, but they were still my friends. Even if I was still a little torn over what the next step was.

Hell, if there were even a next step. I mean, I had to go somewhere after this, but without knowing if my dad was alive while I was shackled to a hospital bed made the future as bleak as a funeral covering.

I hadn't even said _goodbye_ when I left. I'd only left a note.

I banished those thoughts completely once the dryness in my eyes became a little too apparent. There was nothing I could do now but wait.

I closed my eyes and called a horde of cockroaches to me, their resilient bodies dropping from the vent over my bed. I could always count on the little guys to stick around.

After a one-sided match of Janga and a few pyramids later, a voice startled me from reverie.

"You're creepy, you know."

I cracked one eye open and found Panacea at the curtain of my 'room', a PRT officer flanking her side.

"A matter of perspective," I replied, opening both eyes. She came to the foot of the bed, frowning in consideration.

"I wouldn't say that," she said. Her face was like a distorted yin and yang, a mix of too pale skin and dark circles painting her eyes. She was silent for a moment, and a scream for a doctor rang out from the room next to us.

She didn't pay heed to it, not so much as blink, and I found the reaction disturbing. I didn't want to place bugs near an injured person in case of infection, but from the splatters on the floor they were vomiting blood.

"You're not going to help with that?" I asked.

She shrugged. "They've got it covered."

A doctor pushed aside the curtain and got to work. The compressions were clearly audible.

Panacea stepped around my bed, coming to the side so as to peer down at me. "I need your permission to touch you."

"What?"

"Liability reasons. Someone overheard you say you've got a broken back. There could be other complications, and that takes people, time, equipment and money that the people in charge of this hospital are reluctant to spare at a time like this. You could refuse to let me touch you, make the hospital give you the X-rays and MRI, get months or years of treatment paid for by the Preservation Act, all under oppressive confidentiality agreements that could cost the hospital millions. It's an option, but the treatment wouldn't be as fast, good or effective as it would if I used my power. You'd be shooting yourself in the foot for the sake of being stubborn."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died in my mouth. She manipulated biology upon touch. The map of an organism's inner structure was laid bare to her with little more than the press of a finger.

She would learn about my scars.

Did I want to risk it? She was an enemy, had an obvious vendetta against me by the way she glowered. Just one touch and I'd be at her mercy.

But without it, I faced a life of paralysis. That brought with it a whole other type of baggage.

"Just decide so I can move on to other patients," she said.

"Do you just want me to decide so you can disfigure me sooner? What was it you said at the bank? Make me horribly obese, give me stage five cancer?"

She shrugged. "I guess you're going to have to trust me. Besides," she said, lowering her voice from the PRT officer that remained in the corner. "You said some things as well."

 _I did?_ The memory came back to me. _I did._

It was as we were making a break for it, Glory Girl writhing on the ground while Panacea laid on the ground, unconscious.

At least, I had thought she was. Because if she was talking about what I thought she was, I had hesitated a moment, Tattletale leaning on my arm, and said, _"A secret is worth keeping if it keeps families together."_

Not exactly Hallmark, but it was the truth.

"Is it a yes or a no? Make up your mind," Panacea said, a touch of impatience to her voice.

"Yes. Please use your power."

She waved away the PRT officer who left without a word. I squeezed my eyes shut, grimacing behind my mask. Whatever the consequences would be, I'd face them head on.

Her fingers trailed around my neck for a moment till I directed her to the seam, and I waited for her reaction.

At first there was nothing. Then she blinked. "That's not from Leviathan."

 _That's it?_ I thought incredulously.

She was silent for a moment, and the pain disappeared completely. It wasn't near as much as normal, but the feeling that rushed into my legs made me gasp. My broken arm felt a deep pressure building from the inside, not painful, but not pleasant either.

"The scars are completely healed. Both the glandular and fatty tissues were removed. No cancers I can find, though you are- _were_ predisposed to breast cancer. All breast tissue is gone. Some people have theirs removed as a preventative measure. But this wasn't that."

I heard the words as though from afar. Like an ocean sat atop of me, no air to breathe, no light.

"The two… _incisions_ down your chest are wide and deep enough to require stitches, but there's no sign of them. The tiny strips taken off your back-"

"Taken?" I interrupted hoarsely.

"-have an almost strategic placement. The way they layer up towards the middle of your spine- it's odd."

She eyed me curiously, one hand on my throat. "This wasn't done by an average human. You'd be dead. The amount of blood loss coupled with infection would kill anyone, especially someone of your weight and size. The scars are all wrong, too. All of them have the same age, but the deeper lacerations are completely healed. That shouldn't be possible. And they should be restrictive, but they're not."

"Sometimes they are," I found myself saying. How was I talking to _Panacea_ about this? Was this really happening?

"No, they're not. That's all in your head, probably some ingrained reaction to moments of stress or anxiety, possibly any emotionally-intense situation." She paused. "Your heartbeat is off the charts. I wonder, do you feel it now?"

I only now registered the racing beat of the heart monitor as my own. I took a few deep breaths, ignoring the pull across my chest.

"Although I'm curious as to how you survived, I don't really care." The tone of her voice changed. "You have a microfracture in your left shoulder with nerve damage to the hand. Reduced fine dexterity. There's some brain damage that hasn't fully healed as well. I'm not healing any of that."

I didn't answer, and she added, "I'm not growing them back for you, either."

I saw a flash of red. "That's fine," I gritted out. "Just heal my back and arm."

"Mmm. I can feel your emotions. You're angry."

"Damn right- _Ow."_

"That happens when my concentration slips. Best if you stay quiet."

My wounds knitted themselves back together. I could feel my muscles relaxing, but my heart hadn't slowed down.

There was no guarantee that she would tell me honestly, but I had to try. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" My voice crawled forward in a husk.

"What-" she broke off, then looked at me with newfound intensity. "Is that why you said what you did at the bank?"

"Patient confidentiality," I whispered. When did my mouth get so dry? "There's laws about it."

Panacea regarded me for a moment, then retracted her hand. All of my smaller nicks and bruises, torn muscles and ligaments were gone as well. I was good as new.

"Armsmaster, Miss Militia and Legend want me to keep you lucid," she replied abruptly, completely disregarding my question. "Apparently they have something of the utmost importance to speak to you about."

" _Hey,_ you didn't answer my question."

"I don't know what they have to say to you, but I could take a guess," she said, pointedly ignoring my words in favor of glancing towards my manacle. I could care less about that now.

"Amy-"

Suddenly her face was inches away from my own. "You don't get to say my name," she snarled. "It doesn't feel so great now, does it? You've obviously had your fair share of physical warfare, but mentally? This isn't a hundredth of the mind-fuckery your teammate put me through."

"That wasn't-"

"Wasn't you?" She laughed, the sound as brittle as breaking glass. "Good luck with Armsmaster. I have others to help."

She left.

* * *

There was a sound.

It was a male's voice, young but mature, a bit odd sounding. There was a distinct edge to it that after a moment marked itself as an accent. Boston.

"Skitter!"

I groaned in response, jolting into consciousness. I felt like I had been dipped in chocolate and left in the freezer. The shivers raking down my spine did nothing except reveal that a vice grip encompassed my whole body.

"I need you to hold yourself up," Weld said.

Hold myself up? My legs felt as solid as ever, but my upper half was supported by a wall. Using my hands to push off the wall, I was able to maneuver myself forward. I lifted my arm with a bit of effort and wiped off my lenses, leaving brown streaks.

I couldn't begin to describe what I saw.

 _Warzone._

All that had been hiding the view, sheltering us from the sun, was gone. The ground was made up of mud and broken wood. Only a few trees remained standing, leaning atop one another like firewood. The loose earth rose the terrain at least ten feet where we stood, growing in height further away. We had been caught in the last dregs of it.

The rain was coming down in a heavy drizzle, but nowhere near the intensity of what it had been before. I barely felt the pressure of it in comparison.

"Can you feel your legs?"

Weld stabbed his way around me, looking me over. For a brief second I only registered cold, and I almost panicked, the memory of the hospital fresh in my mind. But my toes wiggled in response, and I deflated in relief.

"Yeah. I-" My lower body was encased in the mud. An experimental wiggle did absolutely nothing. "I can't move," I said.

His arms were below the dirt, and I waited as he slowly circled me once more, shifting the mud around to slowly loosen its grip. To bide the time, I searched out with my power and found a disappointingly small amount of useful bugs. The ones I had hidden away were destroyed by the mudslide, and the cockroaches that unsurprisingly survived were caked in mud, crawling to the surface at a snail's pace.

A large pine was lodged into the mud below, and my worms climbed around it to find a small pocket of air, mud sliding into its place.

Judging from both of our appearances, I'd say we had been under there a minute ago.

The worms and larvae on the other side of the river- our side, now- registered Miss Militia running back our way, Vista on her back.

 _Where are the other two?_

I found them fifteen yards away sealed in mud.

"Weld, to your left. Clockblocker and Kid Win." I pointed down, marking the spot with a circle of breaching worms. His eyes widening, Weld carved his way through and disappeared into the muck below.

He appeared not a moment later and began the process of shoveling them out, revealing their frozen figures five feet under, Kid Win soaring through the air with Clockblocker's hand on his chest. They looked like a sculpture of the cape-themed ice skaters on Broadway.

Weld tucked his hands underneath my arms and tugged, the earth releasing me with a wet squelch. After he lead us to where the ground flattened out and set me down, I took a few steps and fell to my knees.

I lifted up my mask, not caring to look at my mud-encased hands, and spat on the ground. I had _swallowed_ dirt. I spat once more for good measure.

The river was stretched now, streaming past the blockage so it flooded the bordering land. It came up to my elbows where I knelt, murky brown water washing away the mud.

I bent over to quickly rub the mud out of my hair, taking a moment to inwardly despair over its poor state. The last thing I wanted was to cut it, but it had started to accumulate knots that my fingers couldn't comb out on their own.

It didn't take long for Miss Militia to reach us. Kid Win and Clockblocker returned to reality with a crash. Their landing splashed us with mud.

Miss Militia didn't bother wiping the spray of dirt off her cheek, instead returning my silk sleeve.

"Are both of you alright?" she asked. Vista hopped off her back, stabled herself and went to the boys.

As far as I knew, nothing was broken. If I had any cuts or bruises, there was no way to tell past the layers of mud caking my skin. A look at Weld proved he was semi-human looking, shrinking back to his usual height, so he was fine.

I nodded. "A little banged up, but ready to go."

Weld repeated the gesture.

She didn't move, and looked as though she were choosing her next words carefully.

I had the awful thought that my pants were missing, having gotten sucked into the earth when Weld lifted me out. But then something in her face shifted, and she said, "You did good with that call, Skitter."

I shrugged. I _did,_ but that wasn't the best reply. "You all reacted accordingly. I could say the same for you guys."

She nodded, then held out her hand. "It's nice to have you on our side."

I blinked. She didn't recoil from my mud-encrusted hand but shook it firmly, mud bulging from between our fingers.

Okay, that was a little gross. We both pulled away and she subtly moved her hand behind her back to shake off the gunk.

I cleared my throat. "Are we ready to move on?"

Our supplies were gone. My own bowlsket had been ripped away by the current, and my right foot was missing the silk wrappings for a shoe. I slipped my silk sleeve over my foot and shook off my hands, frowning at the dirt caked under my fingernails.

The Wards joined us in silence. Kid Win's face pointed towards me.

"I think we are," Miss Militia said at their arrival. "Let's get out of this rain."

We sloughed through the water, falling into alignment. The rain slowly washed us off, but it was still freezing, and the last thing I wanted was to stay cold.

Kid Win drew up next to me, lowering his voice.

"What you did back there- thanks."

For helping him reach the line. Was that what Miss Militia had been referring to? Her back was to me, and the stray drops of mud where she had shaken her hand off splattered across the bottom of her jacket.

I hooked my mask on my bruised side, and shrugged. "No problem."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 *******For any who want to leave reviews: The site isn't letting anyone read their reviews right now. I'm getting emails of partial reviews, but when I try to read them it gives an error. So if you want to leave a comment (please! feed me!), then send me a PM. Thanks.**

 **I had to cut this chapter short. Next one we should be reaching the town.**

 **How are you guys liking the memory flashbacks? I can't tell if they seem out of place or if they work just fine, so let me know your critique on that. For future reference, not all of the canon changes are going to be revealed through flashbacks. Some are going to play out as Taylor is retelling them, or they'll be seen from another POV.**


	10. Cumulonimbus 2-2

**A/N:**

 **This one took a lot of rewrites, a large reason why it took me so long to pound it out. Hope your week was great!**

* * *

A day had passed when I found the broken slab of concrete.

A sizable chunk, it was about the length of my body and just as worn. Cracks weaved through the strip of road, allowing wild grass and weeds to fill the gaps.

The reaction from the group had been instantaneous. I was in the lead once more, scouting ahead for the cookie crumbs spread a little too far apart for my liking. A bottle here, a shard of glass there. Trivial objects that were now lifelines.

The trail ran perpendicular to the river, which was why a crudely-carved wooden bottle, practically the length of my forearm and filled to the brim with water, currently sat by my feet. It may be raining, but we weren't going for a repeat of the last time we were without water. My tongue was dry thinking about it.

I was also covered in bruises head to toe, half of them hidden by the grime that refused to wash off. An earthy, gritty taste still remained in my mouth despite having chewed sage leaves.

Before departing from it, the river current wasn't nearly as strong as before, helped by the fact that we had been heading upstream. It had still been too powerful to bathe in, but a light shower of warm rain pervaded throughout yesterday and washed most of us off.

Key word, _most._

And because all of our supplies were gone, it was crucial that we replenish what we had as soon as possible. We had taken a new routine of walking, collecting herbs as we travelled, and on break we settled to weaving new tools while chewing our food raw, wood too wet to burn.

I felt _exposed._ I had no idea how my armor had survived the river, but I had to adjust it this morning as the knots began to loosen. Part of me was paranoid that the armor would slip right off my chest when we walked, but the larger, more realistic part knew the knots were tight enough to withstand a bit of rain.

That didn't stop me from adding more silk.

"This might be the oddest weather I've ever been in," Weld announced suddenly, startling me from my thoughts.

Taking care to not concentrate on how ratted they were, I brushed my bangs out of my eyes and took in our surrounding by eyesight instead of my swarm.

The sun shone overhead like it had days previous, though the blue sky was puckered with clouds. Rain lightly drizzled, thinner than it had been all day. I only called it rain to differentiate it from the mist that hung over us in sheets, rising from the damp ground. Puddles littered the forest floor like broken mirrors facing the sky above, and if I wanted to, I could almost believe we were among the clouds.

The illusion was helped by Weld himself, his body covered in droplets and a light sheen of water residue. Along the harsher edges of his body, his collar bone in particular, water had collected and rippled with each step. It was stagnant now as he sat on my right, disturbed only by the occasional rain drop that slid down his neck and shoulders.

My basket sat half-made in my lap, and I returned to weaving despite the zinging protests of my fingertips.

A good distance away, Vista and Clockblocker were lightly bickering over something. From their words and the light murmur I could hear of their tone, it wasn't anything serious. Miss Militia kept an ear tilted their way, though her body faced me.

It was surreal to be among the heroes and watch them interact without having to throw a baseball of spiders at someone's face. Seeing firsthand how they ate, bantered back and forth now that the mood was higher- they became more… _real_ in my eyes.

Wearing a cape and a mask did that to people. Conflicts, while no less damaging to those involved and affected, were given an almost unrealistic, 'glimmery' finish. It brought me back to Tattletale's description of cops and robbers. I knew better now, I think we all did after the last few months, but I was still learning a few things.

Despite her apparent approval of my presence amongst the group, Miss Militia hadn't said more than a handful of words to me since our conversation by the river. I hadn't spoken a single word to Vista alone, and Clockblocker had all but ignored my very existence.

But Kid Win wasn't as tense around me as before. He'd even given me a nod this morning. I glanced at him now, his face utterly fixated on the components of a glass tube inlaid with gold wires.

There was no telling how close he was to fixing his technology, and I wouldn't be the one to ask. Aside from the routine check-up from Miss Militia to which he never failed to answer with _"Not done yet,"_ or _"Soon,"_ none of the others had begged to know.

"I've got to say, I kind of like it." Weld said in my silence. I blinked and turned to face him, dividing my attention between my own weaving to his face.

"I like the sound of the rain," I said.

Clockblocker and Vista fell silent.

I added, "It's calming."

The two Wards returned to work, but Weld nodded. "Back in Boston, I used to study by the window during storms. Rain helps me think."

"I've only ever seen you listening to music," Vista spoke up.

The two hadn't shared words since the river incident. With one fine wired brow poking neatly above the other, he replied, "Brockton Bay didn't- doesn't have much in the way of rain. At least, not in the summer. Neither does Boston, so they're the same in that aspect."

"Spring is the rainiest season by far," I said, fishing for another pliable twig from my improvised pile of resources. "And this summer has been the driest I've ever seen."

"Several years back—ten, maybe- we had a drought." Miss Militia spoke up from her spot. "I doubt any of you would remember it. Though perhaps you, Clockblocker?"

The words were an invitation. The boy shrugged in return. "Barely. My dad," his voice sounded odd on the word, "had bought an entire shelf's worth of water bottles for the basement pantry."

The only bit I remembered about the two-month drought was that crime had increased, damaging the docks further and making my dad's job harder. The hall light turning on half past midnight was a regular occurrence those days, a by-product of him working over hours.

"Smart. He must have been in one of the first waves of shoppers. The PRT had their hands full with providing enough water for the city," Miss Militia said. "The Empire prospered in those times, if I remember right."

"Boston hadn't had anything like that while I was there," Weld said. "Though there were quite a few crime syndicates while I was around, and there are probably a few more in the wake of whatever chaos is going on while we're MIA."

Minus one, I almost added, but refrained. He most likely already knew Accord had moved to Brockton Bay.

"There's probably a few more of everything," Vista said. "More capes, more villains."

Miss Militia hummed in response. "Yes, I'm curious as to how the world is handling our disappearance. But we won't know until we reach Leavenworth, and that type of thinking is only going to breed the wrong state of mind," she said. "And with that," she got to her feet, brushing off her pants but only succeeding in spreading the dirt, "I think it's time to continue."

It was silent, save for the shuffle of our feet and the titter of birds overhead. My muscles complained against the strain of moving, but I fell into place with the others, Miss Militia occupying my left side.

Apprehension bubbled in my stomach. I should've been feeling happier, content at the very least. The original plan had been for us to team up, returning to the modern world as an inspiration for the plenty. But if I were being frank, this new lead seemed too good to be true.

I kept my mouth shut, though, and kept walking. It was unusually quiet, and it took me an embarrassingly long while to realize I missed Weld's chatter.

The metal boy's stride was flawlessly even behind me, metal limbs gliding across the forest floor with seamless effort. But his face was stuck forwards, pointedly away from the thirteen-year-old girl walking beside him.

Vista had taken his side in resolute silence, stoically carrying her tiny self forward with jerky movements. Watching the two of them walk was like comparing Dragon tech with a wind-up robot. Behind them was Clockblocker and Kid Win, dubiously silent.

I had been resigned to scouting with my bugs, idly keeping note of a doe trailing through the forest when Miss Militia muttered, "Something's not right here."

I frowned, checking over the rest of the group. Clockblocker and Kid Win mumbling back and forth, Vista and Weld stonily moving forwards. No one else acted as if they heard, and I was beginning to think I'd imagined the whole thing when she leaned imperceptibly towards me.

"Your gut saying something?" I asked, keeping my voice low. If she thought it best to be quiet, might as well follow her lead.

She took her time to respond, glancing around the trees. "It's not only that. Take a look around you. What do you see?"

I allowed my attention to drift to the doe, taking care not to trip over any roots. I knew what she was referring to.

"No predators," I replied.

Not once had I had to alert the group to any cougars, wolves or other predatory animals. Maybe it was our scent that was driving them away, maybe not, but I hadn't discovered any tracks, either. There had only been one predatory animal we were aware of, and that was using the word 'animal' loosely.

As far as I knew, I was the only one she'd told this to. "Why are you telling only me?"

"I trust you won't freak out," she said. "Group morale has been low for the most part, and it won't do us any good to point out what we can't control or understand. I'm probably overthinking it, but if I'm not, at least one other knows."

She fell silent, a small axe forming on her hip. Perfect for throwing.

We continued, but it wasn't long before something else seemed off to me. It took me half a second to place what was wrong.

"Where are all the birds?" I asked slowly, louder for the others to hear.

We stopped in our tracks, and Miss Militia held up a fist for silence, though it wasn't really needed. I held my breath.

You'd think something would have happened once we were aware of how wrong the situation was. But nothing did. I held my breath, gathering my swarm towards me as discreetly as possible to avoid… _stirring_ anything.

After we waited for what felt like a lifetime, absolutely nothing happened. Zilch.

"We keep moving," Miss Militia finally said, startlingly loud. The rain had stopped. All was silent.

We grudgingly continued on. I focused on placing lines of hornets around the trees, weaving strands of silk above our heads. Any and every mandible, pincher, stinger was at the ready. I was ready.

Goosebumps rose on every inch of my flesh. _Damn._ If only we had Grue's darkness, Tattletale's insight. Bitch's dogs. Something to give us the upper hand instead of blindly stumbling forward.

We walked for another hour, and the hair-raising feeling I'd been getting was catapulted into the totally-about-to-be-ripped-to-shreds zone.

There weren't any animals.

Like _hell_ was this okay. Either there was some other natural disaster that the wildlife had picked up on and already fled, or something more sinister was happening. Personally, I was leaning more towards the latter.

It was about an hour later when it felt like a bolt of lightning stuck my body, electrifying every nerve and shooting frayed signals down my veins. Every hair stood on end.

"Did you feel that?" I spoke to no one in particular at the same time Miss Militia muttered, "Stop."

We collectively froze, and I absently noted my baton was already clenched between my white-knuckled fists. It was dead silent; the rush of blood flowing beneath skin, the creak of tendons and ligaments, a drumming heart pushing everything forward. I heard all of it, or at least imagined it.

I was well aware my nerves were officially fried. Something was out there, watching us. I couldn't find them with my bugs and no one else was picking up anything, but I _knew_ it. I couldn't explain how I did. It was just fact.

It was Clockblocker who broke the silence. "This doesn't feel right," he spoke up from the back of the group. "I'm not one for paranoia, but something tells me we shouldn't continue."

Miss Militia turned to face him, a sniper rifle draped across her front. Weld opened his mouth, brow furrowed, but anything he said went straight over my head.

 _I need to get out of here._

The thought was less mine, more of a concept. I spun on my heel and ran.

My world shrunk down to just the pumping of my legs and arms as I tore through the trees, carelessly trampling over sticker bushes and rocks. There was a buzzing in my ears over it all, marking every tree, every bush in a burning haze.

Distantly, a part of me was screaming. Distantly, I registered the rest of the group trampling after me, Weld's shouts for us meeting dead ears. But I couldn't stop. My body seemed to know where to go, full-out sprinting over the mud.

I'd heard about how adrenaline could make mothers lift cars for their babies, and I'd experienced my fair share of it. But this had a different edge to it.

I felt every ounce of pain and exertion as I slid under fallen logs, leaped wildly over a dip in the ground like I'd been training on obstacle courses for years.

Miss Militia passed me along the way, her sculpted, muscled limbs carrying her onwards. The sudden pound of footsteps alerted me to Clockblocker's approach, and then he and I were suddenly neck and neck.

The forest became _thicker_ as we ran, branches and roots boasting heartier waists. Pained gasps erupted from me as the ground slowly turned to an incline, then a full-on cliff side. It was still wet here, and the dirt slid beneath my feet to the point that I needed to dig my fingers in to crawl up.

My breath was ragged, and there was too much sweat pouring over my eyes.

Just as I was certain I'd pass out, the sudden burst of energy left and I dropped to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings. My stomach promptly emptied its contents onto the broken concrete, and it took all of my willpower not to fall into the mess. I rolled onto my side instead, still clutching my baton.

Once I'd gotten hold of my breathing, I blearily wiped my face, too tired to care about how gross I felt. Or looked, for that matter. I wasn't sure if that was sweat or vomit leaking into my hair.

Kid Win was bent over a few feet away, Clockblocker off to the side with his helmet off, chucking up a violet stream of berries from this morning. I caught a shock of red hair before I had the mind to turn away, focusing on Miss Militia.

She panted heavily, hands on her hips while she struggled to even her breathing. Her body was the most fit out of all of us, but even she looked spent. For a while, it was just the sound of our heavy breathing and the occasional hacking.

"What the _hell_ was that about?"

Weld came into view, holding a struggling Vista over his shoulder. She immediately stilled once he made it through the brush, and her eyes rolled back, body falling limp.

I didn't have enough spit to reply. I reached for the bottle at my side, uncorking the makeshift pinecone-stopper from the mouth. Taking a long swig of water, I was saved from replying by Miss Militia.

"I'm not sure." Her voice was rasped, and she swallowed visibly. "My best guess would be some sort of fear aura, adrenaline enhancer…"

I felt a major sense of déjà vu. Hadn't something like this happened before? It felt like there was a gap in my memory.

"I didn't sense anyone. If we're dealing with a parahuman, they're on Cherish's level," I said instead. We took a moment to process that.

For whatever reason, Weld hadn't been affected. He lowered Vista to the wet ground gently, and Miss Militia approached with water at the ready.

Someone spit, and I turned to see the back of Clockblocker's neck as he replaced his mask. "And that means they wanted us to come here," he said.

Miss Militia paused while coaxing water into Vista's mouth, taking time to brush the girl's hair back from her forehead. "It doesn't need saying how dangerous this situation is. If someone lead us here, they did it for whatever motive we can only assume is selfish and harmful towards us. I may be acting leader, but I'm not going to make a blind decision as to what our next move is."

She spoke quietly, but I heard her just fine. It was as if the whole world was made of her voice and the slight prickle of mist at my neck.

"I don't have any tech ready," Kid Win spoke up bitterly. "I can't get a sensor running. I don't have any lasers. Fuck, I don't even have infrared. So whatever you guys decide to do, move forwards or try to head back, I'm in."

"I'm all for moving ahead, though I understand if you guys would like to head back," Weld said. At his feet lied Vista, motionless.

My awareness was returning to me. It wasn't a trickle, but rather an _implosion_ of detail; the fine textures of crumbling mortar and smooth stomata, a sizeable dent in an iron lamp post, the remains of a doorknob under feet of moss.

The _cement_ beneath my palms.

"We made it," I whispered, breathless. Clockblocker's head turned, apparently the only one who heard me.

"What did you say?" he asked, interrupting the others. They paused and tilted their faces down at me, and I belatedly realized I was still lying down.

I gingerly got to my knees, keeping one hand on the pavement to stabilize, to _remind_ myself.

"We're here." I met where I assumed his eyes would be. "Leavenworth."

It didn't look like it. The road was barely visible, moss and grass blanketing it to the point where it was a struggle to find it. But it stretched on past my range, further than the eye could see.

Maybe it was because we were further from the river than we'd been for days, but the forest really was thicker, here. Wilder. I hadn't imagined it. Several hundreds of feet out hung a curtain of moss, hiding what lay beyond it.

Miss Militia was the first to recover. "We move forward," she said. Her eyes didn't leave the cement. "Stick close together."

She bent forwards to pick up Vista, hoisting her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I fell in beside Weld, collecting my swarm to cover our backs. I replaced my mask as well, keeping a firm hold on my baton. Now we had our goal in view. This, at least, I was familiar with.

Weld picked up his pace as we came in reach of the moss curtain, and without pause he sliced it free with a bladed arm. As the strands of greenery gently drifted to the ground, as Weld muttered a curse, I got my first view of the town.

Leavenworth had a distinct Bavarian motif.

Scalloped eaves and shuttered windows, a sign labeled 'Wilkommen!' in red and green. Kaiser and the rest of E88 would've loved it here.

Of course, if it were still inhabitable.

Shells of buildings curled beneath the grip of vines, crumbling in places where nature had won over. The cobblestone roads were flayed with wild grasses. The remains of a diner had a pine tree growing straight through the middle of it, popping out through the roof like a gargantuan hat.

It was like a scene out of some post-apocalyptic movie.

If you looked hard enough, you could tell that it had been a tourist trap in its heyday. Above the claustrophobic crowding of nature, the peaks of mountains stood tall. Cleared out, the town would have overlooked the scenery. Probably the river we kept alongside with, too.

It had only taken a second to take in these fleeting details, and it took another to process them fully.

We weren't home.

 _"Fuck,"_ I hissed. My stomach dropped. I may have been skeptical at best, and I'd sensed just as much back at the road, but it turned out I still had some hope leftover to be crushed.

"Fuck," Miss Militia repeated. She didn't look all too surprised, though her face grew a few more lines to it.

Weld took another step, and a loud snap resounded through the air. His foot had plunged through another sign, this one reading 'Leavenworth' in a looping scrawl.

That pretty much sealed the deal. This was all that was left of the town.

A sound picked up in Vista's throat and she shifted over Miss Militia's shoulders, awakening. She blinked blearily at us, her brow furrowing. What kind of sight did we make?

"This reminds me of a documentary I'd seen a few months back," Weld said. "The premise was how Earth would reclaim itself after humanity went extinct. The beginnings of it, nature growing back- that's what this looks like."

"A post-apocalyptic world?" I replied.

He looked up from where his gaze had settled on the rotted sign. Beads of water collected between his eyelashes and hair, almost like he'd been crying. But his expression was one of solemn determination.

If that was the case, how long ago did this world's civilization pass away? Were _we_ at risk for extinction, too?

A dull tink of metal fractured my thoughts. Kid Win gripped his gauntlet, and for a moment I thought he was going to tear it off. But he scuffed his foot against the road, swallowing audibly. "What's the plan?"

Clockblocker walked past me, bent to pick up a rusted chain from under the brush. It was a locket cracked open, its contents long since lost to the world. His fingers curled around the shelled remains.

The question had been directed to our leader. Miss Militia surveyed the remains of the town, a machete forming at her waist.

"Scavenge," she said.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **It's shorter than usual, but it seemed like a good place to stop. Most, if not all of you guessed that civilization was a no-go. I don't know if that's due to my transparency or Taylor's awful luck, but either way, good job!**

 **I think I might take a break from this story for a little bit. When I try to cram writing into my free time when I have a looming deadline, I tend to rush things and lose sight of the larger focus. I want to get a few chapters ahead before I start updating once more on schedule. I also have another fic that hasn't been updated in six months because I've been working on this one, so I want to direct my attention back to that one as well.**

 **It might be a month or two before I update, but I'll return. Thanks for your support!**


	11. Cumulonimbus 2-3

**A/N:**

 **Sorry about the horrible wait. 2016 has been absolutely _insane._ I've gained three jobs, attended two memorials, one wedding, traveled and started up college again. As soon as one thing ended, another began. Believe it or not, I had originally planned for this to be published before Halloween, so... Hopefully next chapter won't be near as long, but be confident that I have no plans of abandoning this story.**

 **Thank you to all of your reviews and my new faves/followers! Seeing the alerts in my email always bring a smile to my face.**

* * *

The door protested loudly against my touch.

Wet, spongey wood went together beautifully with my clammy hands, and I wished for a brief moment that I had something clean to wipe my palms on. But my pants and tank top were caked in mud, and any bit of silk I had on me was a mix of dirty yellow and brown, disgusting enough that I avoided looking down. At least everyone else looked as horrible as me.

I breathed through my mouth, and pushed.

The rotten door gave way without problem, and musty air filtered out the new opening. What greeted me was a narrow, dim room. The afternoon sunlight filtered in through where the ceiling was caved, ivy spilling over the side of the hole to curl around what used to be an ornate chandelier.

My best guess was this used to be some fancy hotel judging by the opulent bed and the rest of the furnishing. There wasn't much to go off of- most of the wooden furniture was eaten through by thick fungus- but what remained pointed towards a higher-end lodging.

I crossed the threshold, and as soon as my foot hit the floor a loud snap devoured my ears. The floor gave out.

 _Shit-_

I didn't even have time to gasp before an arm wrapped around my waist, jerking me back into the hallway.

"Careful," Weld said.

He released his grip and I took a moment to breathe. I rescinded my original statement. Everyone _except_ Weld looked disgusting. He was just… dirty. His metal skin was streaked with mud and dust, but he was mostly washed off from the earlier rain. Now he looked like an eerily realistic statue from the city park.

"Thanks," I said. "I say we skip this room, head to the next."

Honestly, we should have done that in the first place. Every room on this side of the hallway was based over a ledge, support beams holding up the foundation. It was a work of art from an architectural standpoint, but certain death from mine.

I skirted past Weld and tried the door across. This one was stuck to the doorframe, and after a few useless jiggling of the handle a metal hand reached around me and gave the door a solid push, letting it fall to the ground. This room wasn't much different than the last, though there was less light to see by.

"There's a wardrobe along the far left wall," I said for his sake. "I can't find a way in, but I think it's worth a shot."

I tested a step, and finding the floor stable, warily tiptoed on. If I fell through the drop would only be two feet, anyways. The worms below me wiggling on dozens of rocks confirmed that.

Weld stayed behind me, unusually frozen. Usually, albeit unnaturally, he breathed. He didn't need to, but his chest normally rose with the rest of ours. Now it was utterly still, and the only part of him that moved was his head.

"We found some batteries!"

Clockblocker's muffled voice carried over the squeaking floorboards, and I paused to hear Miss Militia shout, "Nothing here!"

We were split into three teams: Miss Militia and Vista, Clockblocker and Kid Win and Weld and I. I had eyes and ears over six blocks of what remained of Leavenworth, and the local spiders had enough webs further out that monitoring vibrations was child's play.

All of us were in the same dirty hotel, scavenging in separate rooms to keep our numbers from going thin. I didn't think any of us wanted to be spread out.

Leavenworth felt like it was holding its breath.

"Nothing yet!" my partner replied for the both of us.

My foot nudged the corner of a flipped floorboard, and the entire plank of wood responded with a jarring _snap._ A cloud of dust drifted through the air, and the sweet smell of decay grew a little stronger. A good portion of the floor was rendered unstable.

"Skitter?" Weld asked.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, tamping down my racing heart. The gaping hole in the ground looked like a mouth. _I almost fell through that._ "There might be some clothes over here that we desperately need."

I reached the corner. The edges of the wardrobe were raw with age, and I paused to pluck out a few splinters in my palm. Up close, I could appreciate its beauty. Delicate swirls carved into the panes of the doors, and little figures of men on horseback were etched along the bottom lining. Other than that, the wood was streaked with water damage.

Despite its wear, my baton hardly made a dent on it and my arms rattled with the impact. I tried prying it open on the corners, and hazarded a look around the back where I found a smashed porcelain doll's head and a few stones. Still no luck.

"Can't get it open." My voice was laced with the tiniest hint of breath, and I wiped the sweat off my brow. "I think I'm going to need you."

"Are you serious?"

I felt the need to see his face, but only his outline was visible through the shadows. He crossed his arms.

"We're on the bottom level of the building, and the majority of this floor is supported by cement blocks below. As long as we keep on those, it should be fine." _Especially since half the bad flooring's been taken out already,_ I didn't add.

I made my way back to the door with little difficulty and stretched out a hand. In the poor lighting his face was unreadable. Going out on a limb, I grabbed where I gathered his wrist would be and found unrelenting metal beneath my fingertips. He was cold to the touch.

"Trust me on this," I said. "I've got the entire area mapped out below us. Before was a little slip." I tugged, and after a brief second where I feared he wouldn't budge, he followed.

I carefully lead us through the room, cringing at every creak that seemed more pronounced than before. Only about midway did I realize how close we were. His hulking metal feet skimmed the heels of my own bruised and battered. My arm grazed his. His skin remained carefully smooth, so I had no reading on any clenched muscles or jaws. But I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head just fine.

The wardrobe couldn't have come sooner. I gratefully released his wrist and gestured towards the furniture, instantly feeling foolish for doing so. He easily ripped the doors off their hinges, and my bugs scoured the inside.

Nothing.

"Damn," I muttered.

"What about a safe?" Weld suggested. He didn't move from where his feet had rooted to the spot, but he gestured to the rest of the room.

Frowning, I scanned the rest of the room, taking extra care in the smaller details.

There. In the adjacent corner of a room, hidden by the rotten remains of a duvet was a small metal box. From the wood that was splintered around it, I'd say it used to be in the floor.

"Found it," I announced. "Stay here, I'll bring it back."

The floor creaked ominously as I walked across it, but thankfully I made it without falling through. My fingers went through the duvet when I tried to lift it off, and the whole thing fell apart in my hands. The remaining soggy mess had plastered itself around my arms and gave off a musty stench.

I gagged. _Gross._

Weld remained impassive at my appearance when I returned, awkwardly holding the safe in my arms.

"Do you think you can get this open?" I asked.

"I don't have my gloves," Weld answered. "I could try absorbing it, but that might be a little tricky."

I chewed my lip. The metal walls were surprisingly thin, little holes riddling the outer sides but not deep enough to create an opening. My beetles had already crushed themselves trying to get in through the lock.

Realistically, one of the others could probably pry it open. But I kind of wanted this victory. A thought occurred to me, and my hand strayed to my utility compartment.

"I have an idea, but we're going to have to go outside."

The sunlight was soft under the canopy of trees, and I settled down at the base of what used to be a mailbox. Weld remained standing. There weren't any fallen branches within my range; in fact, Leavenworth's forest was in top shape compared to where we woke up.

In the remains of the hotel, Miss Militia held up a piece of fabric that was still intact to Vista, and Clockblocker and Kid Win were moving to the next room over.

I pulled out the bone I'd stashed days before from our first breakfast here. It was still intact, surprisingly. It looked like it was small enough to fit, but when I tried to wedge it in the lock the edges were too wide.

Weld offered his hand and I placed it in his palm, watching while he carefully filed it down. When he gave it back, it fit almost perfectly.

Now came the hard part. I jiggled the lock experimentally, and it…

Opened. Huh. I guess that was to be expected for a safe from a tourist-trap.

Inside was a felt jewelry box containing a pair of silver stud earrings. I frowned, checking the safe once more as if something else manifested from the air. Still nothing.

"Whoever was here last must've cared for those," Weld offered. The earrings sat in my palm, glittering uselessly. This was our tenth building, and we hadn't found a single thing worth scavenging.

"Enough leave them behind," I replied.

Weld frowned. "True. You'd think there'd be more here, but everywhere we've looked has only moss and bugs."

He folded his arms, and they chimed softly together. His face gave no indication of it bothering him. "Let's go for one more. I say we try for a home or a grocery store, something that might actually contain food. And who knows? Maybe we'll get a lead on what's happened here."

He extended a hand, and after a brief pause I accepted it. We left the safe behind, but the earrings I placed in my utility compartment, along with the rabbit bone.

It should've been a hot day, but the sun was hidden by masses of white clouds, and the tree tops hid whatever summer scorch would've followed. My feet padded softly down the mossy cement. The road was more existent in the middle of the city than it was on the edge, but there was still enough growth on the cement to make me wonder how long this place has been abandoned. Cars laid out in the middle of the road as if people just parked and walked away.

Buildings sagged under the weight of rot and vines, some reduced to rubble while others were filled as though they had never been man-made structures. I only knew because of my power, the civilizations of coleoptera and isopods, blattodeas and orthoptera like little beacons of light on my radar. It was silent, save for the distant roar of a waterfall some ways away.

"I'm not crazy about this place," Weld said once we'd cleared some distance from the hotel. My bugs picked up Clockblocker peeling away floorboards, oddly enough, with Kid Win holding up the remains of a table.

"At least there're insects," I said. He gave me an eyebrow raise and I frowned, realizing how that sounded. "No, seriously. If something were totally, _immediate-death_ wrong, there wouldn't even be that. At least we know we won't drop dead anytime soon. Hopefully."

His eyebrow only got _higher_.

"At least they're not deformed. That's a sign of radiation."

Weld shrugged, and a second later I realized he was _amused_. "Alright, I'll give you that. But I'd keep from repeating that fact to the rest of the group. As if you need any more bugs."

"Squeamish?"

"Not really," he replied. "There's not much I have to be afraid of."

Our eyes met, and he stopped walking.

"Does this look like something worth a try?" he asked.

We were standing before a country store, though it looked more like a heap of rock and moss. One corner had completely collapsed, making the whole building look as though it had taken a knee.

It was still standing, though, and that had to count for something. I spotted where the entrance used to be beneath a tangle of ivy and ferns, and my flyers mapped out a breathable amount of space within the building. It would be a tight fit, but we could both make it.

And if the cans inside were any indication, it was worth it.

"Yeah," I said, walking towards the buried entrance. "As long as we don't bump into anything, it should be fine."

Weld looked at me incredulously. "I was planning on heading in alone with you on surveillance."

I settled for staring silently, and he continued. "Yeah, it looks like it's worth a try," he nodded towards the store. "But it looks more like it's about to go bottoms up. Are you sure?"

No, but I'd rather go in there than stay out here alone. It could've been my nerves, but something in the air made me feel paranoid, and the last thing we needed was to split up even more.

"Absolutely," I said. Aside from another look, he lead the way to the splintered door. I had to mind my feet- rubble from the building next door littered the ground in jagged points.

Weld went first, crouching low to clear the collapsing doorway. The smell was thick with water damage and animal droppings, and through my silk the floor was wet with slime. Aside from the sunlight offered by the open doorway and pinprick holes through the ceiling, I could hardly see.

"Straight out of a horror movie," Weld muttered.

The water stained ceilings, weather-worn flooring, the dilapidated remains of modern society- all of it reminded me of home. It was like I'd gone in a full circle.

"I'd say that," I whispered.

The inside of the store was larger than it looked. The ground was completely collapsed in areas, revealing the old pipes below.

"Careful where you step."

Weld widened his stance accordingly and sidled carefully along the wall. He stopped just short of what used to be a check stand, and the ground creaked ominously. "Where to?"

"You're by the cashier, or what remains of it. Move three paces forward, carefully."

He did, sliding inhumanly low but still managing to make it without dropping through the floor. I stepped out from the doorway, taking his place by the check stand.

Something metallic creaked on the other side of the room.

I froze. "A pipe, I think," I said. My bugs scoured the floor, searching for the sound.

"You _think_?" Weld repeated dryly, but he continued forward.

"Hold up." Something was sticking out from the drain near his feet, and as heavy as he was we couldn't afford for him to gain any more mass. "There's metal to your left. Don't move."

It was too lodged to be removed by my bugs. I got low, copying his position as much as I could. With the ground as slippery as it was I couldn't move near as gracefully, but with my hands as stabilizers I managed to loop my toes around the thing and pull.

A long, thin metal rod came loose, heavier than it should've been. "Okay, head-"

I slipped, landing bodily on the floor. I waited for the ground to swallow me up, but nothing happened except for the sound of my dignity's eulogy ringing through the darkness.

"I'm alive," I said before Weld could say a thing. Graciously, he remained silent. "Head to your left. The racks are made of wood."

The whole aisle was overturned, and Weld was already feeling for the edges by the time I crawled up next to him.

"You might want to get back," he said. He moved the aisle up and hundreds of cockroaches scurried out, joining my swarm. Their legs clicked loudly in the gloom.

What they left behind were a few cans, nothing that I would expect from a grocery store. But it was better than anything else we had. I collected the cans into my arms but remained on my knees, scanning the rest of the store.

It truly was empty. Whatever cloth there was had been picked clean by moths, falling apart on the racks. The boxed foods and plastic-wrapped candies were soiled beyond recognition. Everything else that was useful- can openers, pocket tools, lighters- was gone.

"Is that it?" Weld asked.

My ears picked up a dripping sound. It came from the same place the creaking had been.

"As far as I can tell."

A silence fell over us, accentuated by the fact that I couldn't actually _see_ anything. I wiped my hair back from my face, wincing at the matted mess. At this rate I probably looked more like an oversized Q tip than a person.

Weld remained stationary. Could he see me? I wasn't actually sure about the 'perks' of his condition except for his lack of a need for sleep or sustenance. The only thing I had to go by for metal men were Hookwolf and the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, and I doubted either really compared.

"I used to be afraid of the dark," I found myself saying. Weld's face jerked towards me. "I guess that plays into fear of the unknown, like a kid when they're separated from their parents. But now, all things considering, it's not so bad."

Silence. Why the hell did I say that?

"I wouldn't know the feeling," Weld said slowly. "But I used to be, too. When I first woke up here-" He cut himself off. "There isn't much I have in way of senses, you know. Having a metal body destroys any future of a normal, nine-to-five occupation." He paused. "My sight and hearing are all I've got of the average human body."

"'Used to be?' What changed?"

He didn't answer.

"Triggering changed everything for me," I tried. It was easier, talking in the dark, and I found myself wanting answers to at least _one_ of the mysteries out here. "Nothing's hidden from me as long as I have these," I had my swarm chitter in emphasis, "and before the Echidna fight you pointed out my clairvoyance."

"Thinker 1."

"Right," I said, and waited.

"I think there are plenty of others that would agree with you," was his careful reply. "Let's regroup."

 _Alright then._

"Sure." It was almost a struggle to keep my voice neutral.

We moved forward.

* * *

The rest of the group had just about as much luck as we did. Not a lot, but more than we started with.

Crusty velvet drapes, a thermos, a roll of batteries, some canned food and a glass bottle of some dark liquid- soda, judging by the style of the glass.

Kid Win was currently dissecting a barely-recognizable washer machine in an outlet, miniature tool set splayed across the patchy carpet. We were in the bones of a house, a pine tree in the center of the room and shooting through the roof like Christmas on crack. The doors to the adjacent rooms- a shower, kitchen and bedroom- were gone, leaving everything exposed.

I sat with my back against the tree, one leg bent, the other straight. My spiders were working on thickening the silk around my feet while I tried to fit in some basket weaving.

"First impressions?" Miss Militia asked. She was leaned against the wall with her hand in her pocket, Vista spread along a cushion-less piano bench in a cocoon of the drapes.

"This doesn't feel right," Vista muttered, but it didn't seem anyone heard her.

"Something bad happened here," Clockblocker spoke up, arms folded. He shifted his position on top of the washer machine and kicked the side of it. "Understated way of putting it, but 'shit hit the fan' doesn't fit right."

"I think we can all agree that what happened here wasn't anything good," I said, drawing attention to myself. "Almost everything light enough to carry is gone. The grocery store was completely empty, except for the register. It still had cash in it."

"Yeah. All of the cars have been stripped." Kid Win had glanced up from where he'd been dismantling the dryer beside Clockblocker. "All of them," he continued. "And look- so has this."

He tipped over the dryer in a surprising show of strength. Where he had been digging around in the back was cut neatly apart, leaving no exposed wires or circuitry. Just… bare.

"Everything else I found was like this, too. None of the machinery is _machinery_ anymore."

"Does it look like the work of a Tinker?" Clockblocker asked.

Kid Win shrugged. "Hell if I know. I mean, why? How? If this was a Tinker just scrounging for supplies, they'd still have to put back everything back in place seamlessly. That's way too much work, and for what?"

"They could've had help," I said.

"But why?" Kid Win stressed. He scratched his head, and instead of adding anything more he went back to dismantling.

"That's a question I'm also trying to answer," Miss Militia said in lieu. "If it was a Tinker, that would still take enough time despite whether they had help or not. And it still doesn't explain why everyone left in the first place or why Leavenworth is the way it is."

"Emergency supplies," Weld blurted. It was the first thing he said since leaving the store. "Did you guys find any?"

"No," Vista muttered. "There was no food, or flashlights. Not even hiking gear, and these are the _mountains._ Nothing that should be here, is here."

Weld nodded slowly. "It's possible they could've disintegrated from wear and tear, but there aren't any books or pictures, board games or toys. Clothes. Tools. It's like no one ever lived here at all."

He was right. The more I thought about it, that was what had been unsettling me. It was like we were in the idea of a home, the only thing missing being the family. The human aspect. I took in the house we were currently taking shelter in. The kitchen behind me, sink disconnected from the pipes. Shelves barren, not even a sponge left. Upstairs were two bedrooms inaccessible from the broken staircase. The mattresses were eaten through by moths, laced with bed bugs.

But, no... I was missing something. What?

"I think it's time we move on." Miss Militia cocked a sniper rifle down her front, straightening. "Let's break a quick meal and leave."

We got to our feet with the supplies and filed out the front door, rusty hinges squealing from disuse. I went to rub my eyes, stopping at the last second when I remembered how dirty my hands were. Sighing through my nose and trying desperately not to lose it, I immersed myself in my swarm.

Moths in cabinets, hordes of centipedes scaling down basement stairwells. There was an entirely different type of ecology of bugs here without the animals.

 _What a clusterfuck,_ I thought. From beginning to end, this entire ordeal was like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I needed to get back to Brockton Bay. I needed to see my team.

 _Dad._

My eyes started to sting and I jolted back to reality, blinking furiously. That was… unexpected. Wasn't it?

Shaking my head free of thoughts, I set to ordering my swarm while the others picked their own herbs, jostling water down from the larger-leafed trees to collect in crude baskets reinforced with mud and silk. Conversation was lacking.

I ripped up one weed after the other, sprinkling dirt onto my hands and legs. It looked like hundreds of little beetles were crawling over me. Miss Militia stood with Weld, scanning through the area while he observed the trees for suitable bark.

 _'_ _Everywhere we've looked has only moss and bugs.'_

"Only moss and bugs," I muttered.

 _Bed bugs._

The world spun as I jumped to my feet with more energy than I had in days. My ears buzzed with the rush. Or, no. It was my power, my swarm gathering together of its own accord.

"Skitter?" Miss Militia called to me, and I realized the others were watching me warily. The look on Weld's face- a raised eyebrow, mouth turned down- made my stomach stir uneasily.

I ran to the pair, and in turn a bullpup formed at Miss Militia's side. I stopped short, hands raised placatingly. "Bed bugs," I quickly said. "There were bed bugs on two different mattresses- one in the hotel, one in the house we were just at."

She looked at me blankly, tension still lacing her shoulders. Weld turned and struck the tree with a bladed arm, and I willed my power to stop buzzing at the edges of my mind. The effort almost made me nauseous.

"They're a parasite," I emphasized, "and parasites need-"

"-hosts," Miss Militia finished. Her eyes widened.

"Exactly." I took a breath, sighing in relief. You'd think I'd be better at communicating with the heroes by now. "And they can only survive for about two to three months without blood. Now, if we're to assume that there haven't been any animals here within a mile, humans had to be here within the last two to three months _sleeping in those beds._ "

We fell silent to digest what exactly that entailed.

"That means… There's a good chance Leavenworth was reduced to this in only a matter of months," Miss Militia said. She recovered from her shock, immediately straight-backed and tense, a pair of Uzis at her side. "And whatever caused it could very well affect us. We need to leave. _Now._ "

I was already alerting the others, but Weld wasn't moving. His back faced us.

"Holy shit, do you think whatever did this…" Kid Win was saying behind me, but I tuned his words out when I got close enough to look over Weld's shoulder.

Blood, fresh and dripping, coated his arm. From where his arm was still lodged in the sapling, more was dripping down the blade.

"What the…" I whispered.

My voice must've jolted him back to reality. _"Fuck,"_ Weld said. His voice was disjointed. "What the absolute-"

Weld wrenched his arm out, flecks of blood spraying back. The dripping turned audible, developing into a steady stream that rolled down the sapling's trunk.

Behind us wood splintered, entire trees groaning as though strained. I had enough of a mind and opportunity to replace my mask just as the pine on my right burst in a wet snap, drenching us in a wave of blood. Another tree exploded just as the drops landed, and another a split second after.

 _It's warm._

"Run!" I screamed in tandem with Miss Militia. She was already hoisting Vista over her shoulders, Clockblocker and Kid Win following close behind.

My swarm was acting of its own accord, shielding and weaving and scouting, doing everything I could think of. There was no rhyme or reason to the order they were setting off. Another tree exploded, showering Clockblocker with a wave large enough to knock him off his feet. The smell was thick in the air.

"What the hell?!" Kid Win screamed. I looked to where he stumbled, focusing in on the round bloody mess from the fractured remains of a pine. It was a man's head.

 _How-_

I was thrown to the ground from an explosion of gory bits and body fluid, this time a full arm wrapping itself around my neck by the impact before swiveling off. I coughed for air, clutching my throat.

Weld grabbed the back of my tank top, yanking me several yards before I got my feet back under me and almost fell again when he kept pulling along. "To the town! To the town!" Miss Militia yelled over the wet bursts.

Clockblocker took the lead, freezing every tree within reach as we barreled back to town. Between Weld and I our sides were mostly clear of debris, he smashing them away while I worked on wrapping the trees up ahead. It didn't keep the blood away, but none of us kissed dirt again.

We made it back into town and only stopped once we reached the center road. All was silent, the distant sound of splitting wood poking out from the sides of the forest and spouts of blood from rooftops. I took a moment to catch my breath, but found I couldn't. My heart wouldn't slow down, and it was like the very edges of the world were closing in, _dad_ -

"Do you… feel that?" I gritted out between panting. At some point I had fallen on my knees.

Miss Militia said something, but whatever it was washed over me. _Focus on something._ The world was clearer through my swarm, more grounded. I spread my senses out.

"I'm feeling a lot of things right now. You're going to have to be more specific than that," Weld said. His arm still held a tinge of sharpness, and he held his wrist loosely with one hand.

"It's some sort of empath." Clockblocker wiped his mask with equally bloody hands. "It's not near as strong as before, but it's there. _Shit._ " He bent over, hands on his knees. Thankfully, I didn't feel another wave of emotion.

At least three hundred yards away trees were still exploding, body parts sliding out like beans from a pod. The intensity wasn't as strong as before there, too. They more like… _gave out,_ like the bark couldn't hold it in any longer. Closer to us and down the street some blood squirted up through a pot hole. A tree had taken root underground.

I belatedly wiped off my lenses, succeeding in only smearing around red. How the others could see, I had no idea.

"I'm willing to bet this is what happened to the villagers," Miss Militia said. She was carrying what resembled a shoulder canon.

"But how does that help us now?" I asked, thinking out loud. "Why'd they start exploding? Where are these… _emotion-_ bending waves coming from?"

"Maybe they're connected," Clockblocker spoke up again. He was still bent over but in better shape than Vista or Kid Win. The two of them were in various states on the ground, Vista pressing her hands to her eyes while Kid Win dismantled his gauntlet in record speed.

"I don't know," Weld interjected. "This seems too unbalanced for one power set. We should think about the possibility of two parahumans, at least."

He was right. Which means with our limited number of able fighters we might be outnumbered. But numbers didn't matter if we couldn't even find our attacker. If we were to assume that there was an empath we were dealing with, how should we go about it?

 _Locate them first._

My swarm was still drawing towards me. The openness of the road was good and bad for obvious reasons. We could see who- or _what_ \- was coming at us, but so could they. My cockroaches were still making their way out of the underground pipe system, crawling over mossy stones. The rest I had conceal us overhead, spread in different patches throughout the town in case the empath only had a broad sense instead of concentrated, like Cherish.

Miss Militia scanned the available area with her eyes, but I already knew she wouldn't find anything. There was no one _here,_ just us.

Wait. One of the stones moved underground. I followed it closely, holding my breath as it moved once more. There was something off about the whole circumstance.

"What is this?" I muttered.

As soon as it moved once more, the feeling subsided and I was left confused once more. What had I been worried about?

"Hey," Weld said. He pointed at a rock. I followed his finger with furrowed brows.

"Do you see something?" I asked.

Weld tilted his chin towards me but refused to take his eyes off the rock. "You don't see it?"

"See what?" While all I could see was a rock, Miss Militia still pointed her gun at it.

"It's got fangs," Weld answered. "And it's smiling."

The rest of us froze. I took another look, but all I saw was a rock. Taking no chances, I draped a sheet of silk on it.

"What's it doing now?" I asked slowly.

Whatever Weld had to say was interrupted by Clockblocker's scream. He was on his back, clawing frantically at his stomach as a _tree_ began to sprout from a mossy substance covering his torso.

Miss Militia was already ripping off his uniform with a bowie knife when I saw caught a fleeting glance at the culprit: knee-high, a speckled gray form. It disappeared before my fliers reached it.

I went to move into position before I realized I already was. We were in a basic huddle around Kid Win, Vista and Clockblocker. Beside me, Weld's arms were spiked clubs. Miss Militia was at my back, a mounted machine gun pointing down the other side of the road.

Kid Win muttered to himself, and when he fidgeted from where he crouched I got a view of his project. It was the gauntlet he'd been fiddling with the entire week, the roll of batteries and a bundle of wires attached haphazardly to it.

"Hey!" There was a muted clank as Weld spiked what looked like a normal rock, and the impact shattered it to pieces. "There's more," he said. "I see them coming."

 _Why the hell can't the rest of us see them?_

"How many?" Miss Militia asked. Clockblocker groaned. Thin streams of blood ran down his bare stomach and chest where the roots had dug in.

"Too many, we're going to have to retreat."

My silk came fluttering down from overhead. Wordlessly, I hung a sheet around us like a curtain, and Clockblocker froze it in place from where he laid. For now, we were safe.

Nothing moved on the other side.

"We can either head for the falls, or double back into territory we already know." Miss Militia said. "Both ways are covered with trees." As if on que, a faint splash sounded in the distance where a pine tree blew to bits.

I was struck with how fast everything had unfolded. Just ten minutes ago, we had been lounging in the abandoned house. Twenty, Weld and I were in the grocery store.

Just what started this?

"I vote for the falls," Weld replied. He kept his voice low. "We might as well move where civilization is more likely to be."

"Double back," I said. "This didn't start until we _got here._ There could be more than tree-coffins and rock monsters on the other side of those falls."

"Or a town with resources, _people_ ," Weld argued. "Whereas behind us is the other monster."

Was he serious? "If any of the towns nearby had common-sense and enough of a window, they'd be long gone by now."

"Maybe we should prepare to fight," Clockblocker spoke up, albeit weakly.

"We can't move back," Weld said, stepping towards me.

"So, what? We run till we meet the falls and swim across? Pray they don't follow us?"

He clenched his jaw. "They look like they'll sink."

I regarded him for a moment behind my blood-streaked lenses. Up until now, we had agreed on almost everything. "Okay," I said finally. "Clockblocker's right, we need a plan of attack."

He nodded shortly and turned without further comment. I noticed Miss Militia was looking between the two of us with a calculating eye.

Abruptly, our cover slumped. It froze into place a split second later, but the slight decrease in height revealed a pile of rocks had built against our wall in the short while, somehow completely evading my detection. One rolled down and was immediately destroyed by several bullets.

"I can't control the time limit," Clockblocker said, slightly out of breath. "Keep at the ready."

Miss Militia lobbed several grenades over the barrier. The ground shook at their detonation, and the roar was almost deafening.

"Weld, you and I can stay behind to ward off the initial attack. Kid Win and Skitter, you'll need to take Clockblocker and Vista and run for the falls. We're going to have to trust that they can't swim," she ordered.

It was a poor plan and we all knew it. I tried to concentrate more on my swarm, keying in to any movement or sound. They had some sort of sense-muffler surrounding them. I didn't have enough silk to cover them all, so I collected the pieces left from the carnage of the trees. The ones buried under bodies I had to leave behind, but the rest I transported to trees before us, labeling the path with the least amount of monsters.

"Skitter, how much silk do you have?" Weld asked stiffly.

"I've been weaving since we got here."

He nodded. "Good, I want to try what we did before. They'll need to be low."

 _I've already been doing that._ I kneeled to sling Vista over my back. Her body was cold with sweat, and she weighed less than I thought she would. My spiders tied her wrists together around my neck.

"Kid." Clockblocker stood slowly, stopping halfway before reaching full height. His arm was wrapped around his stomach tightly, the other still on the curtain. "You're going to have to carry me."

"C'mon, _c'mon,_ " Kid Win groaned. His fingers were twisting and pulling, doing something with feverish intensity.

My heart skipped a beat when I finally picked up the small movements around us. They were different sizes, all ranging from a few inches to just above my knee. They zoned in on us from every direction, even in the trees.

"Kid!" Clockblocker shouted.

"I think I finally have something," Kid Win announced breathlessly. His body blocked my view, but whatever it was was being prodded at relentlessly. "I'm not sure it'll work, but…"

"What are the risks?" Miss Militia asked.

"At best? It doesn't deploy. At worst, we die."

"The best kind of odds," Clockblocker grunted.

Kid Win nodded. Despite his warning, there was a tension of excitement on his frame. "I was able to reboot the power frame for a limited time. When I first built this, I included a safety measure in case someone ever stole it. I've never tested it, but there should be a blast radius to the end of this block."

 _What the hell type of 'safety' measure is that?_ Vista stirred on my back. Her armor dug painfully against my own reversed one, and I awkwardly shifted her weight to try and balance it.

"What's going on? Where are the people?" she mumbled.

Kid Win scratched his head. "There isn't really a timer, but the limit is about twenty seconds-"

"Deploy it," Miss Militia interrupted. "I'll take the lead and clear a path for us. Weld, you take Clockblocker and keep beside Skitter to cover our backs. Kid, take Vista."

I dutifully stepped beside Weld as Kid Win fumbled with his device. Clockblocker was put on his back like Vista was mine, and then Miss Militia was already in front and Kid Win set onto lifting Vista from me.

There was no time. The cover dropped and for a heartbeat, everything was still.

Dozens, possibly _hundreds_ of small, hard-backed creatures waited for us as though a spell had been broken. Their skin was like broken asphalt and coarse hair littered the cracks, mole-like noses stuck up at a curve past hairy eyebrows. Their eyes were entirely animal, but their appearances were almost like men. Like garden gnomes.

A volley of bullets fanned across their number. This was followed by several rocket launchers at our sides as the rest of us took off running, improvised silk shield left frozen behind us once more.

Kid Win took the lead while Clockblocker and I worked double time, freezing leaves and bloodied branches and the odd sheet of silk. Two other swarm clones of our group set off in separate directions, and I noted with some triumph that they drew off their own number of gnomes.

 _And yet._ "Go left! Go left!" I shouted.

Kid Win took a hard dive just as a gnome spat a green substance where his head had been. It sunk into the ground without fanfare. _Need bodies to grow._ As a precaution, I spared a bit of silk for the ones above us in case any more of them spat.

Miss Militia was catching up, a flame thrower slung across her shoulders. Behind us was a sea of flaming gnomes, some lying stationary while others still burrowed underground, following us. More came crawling over the dead, seemingly twice the number as before.

And then the earth exploded.

I was thrown at least seven feet in the air. My mask was knocked loose on impact. Vista's body sailed over mine and into the branches of a thick bush. I felt more than heard Weld hit the ground with an aching _thud,_ and I couldn't place where the others had landed.

From what I could tell, the whole block and a little past it was reduced to rubble. All around us was still as death, not one tree exploding. I was beginning to allow myself a breath when a speck of movement jostled the dirt below us. And another. And another.

Air rushed into my lungs. _Get up._

Every muscle aching, I drew myself to my hands and knees and immediately puked stomach acid. Coughing, I crawled towards Vista. My head swam, and with a wince I touched it only to have my hand covered in fresh blood. Almost immediately after my vision blacked and I collapsed.

 _Shit._ Not good. I breathed carefully, willing my head to stop spinning. "Hey," I croaked.

Without warning I was wrenched from the ground and onto Weld's shoulder. Vista joined me not long after, her body uncomfortably stacked on top of mine. On his other shoulder, Clockblocker hung limp. After several dizzying turns, he stopped moving.

"Miss Militia!" he called. "Kid Win!"

It didn't matter how much attention we drew to ourselves since the gnomes already knew where we were, but I still tensed.

"Miss Militia!" he tried again.

The ground began to bubble with mole hills. He didn't make another sound, instead took off in a sprint. Already I could tell Weld was carrying too much. Vista was being crushed against me and yet we were both sliding forwards, forcing him to adjust his hold without dropping the both of us. Gnomes erupted from every crevice, more than I had anticipated or could handle. For the ones that strayed too close I swarmed their eyes and noses, but there were simply too many.

I didn't have enough stomach bile to throw up from the movement, but I must've blacked out for a second because the next thing I knew a wave of green saliva swept over us.

"Shit!" The hit was strong enough to wrench Weld to the side, knocking both me and Vista to the ground. Luckily, he took the brunt of the wave and it separated from him like oil with water.

More were arriving. He plucked Vista up first, then me only to drop us as a gnome dropped on my back from the trees. My arm twisted painfully upon landing, but I found I couldn't move. Weld quickly sliced the gnome in half, following up two more that threw themselves at his face.

A strange chitter rose throughout the forest from the gnomes. It was like the sound of a groundhog but lower, awkward as though someone slowed down a recording of it. Weld reached for Vista once more but turned on his heel and batted away a few more gnomes. He quickly snatched her up and reached for my arm only to have to drop me, his other hand occupied with holding Clockblocker in place.

There was only one solution: _He's going to leave me._

He was going to take Vista and Clockblocker and try his luck with the waterfall. I was going to die.

 _"_ _Fuck!"_

Vista dropped to the ground and Weld pulled me back up, setting me over his shoulder just as the chitter grew in volume. He ran with more speed than before, faster than any normal human and with a grace that was uncanny. The gnomes were fast, but even they couldn't keep up.

The murky bellows of exploding trees started anew. Blood sprayed down with fresh fervor on both sides and filled my nose, my mouth. It came upon us thick and warm and without mercy, yet Weld continued to run.

Before he carried us off the cliff, he screamed.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So this was a particularly challenging chapter. It's quite the game-changer, and honestly something I've been working towards from the first chapter. The tone of the story is going to change (hopefully for the better). For any of you who are tired of the forest or the general angst (sorry!), that's coming to an end soon. I can't say how soon, but I'm looking at the next few chapters.**

 **As a side note, I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


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